Cygnet Committee
by messengercat
Summary: Such a path may have been madness, but then, the whole world was mad and this was the path he'd willingly chosen.
1. 00: As The Sparrow Sings Dawn Chorus

_A/N._ This fic started out as a simple companion piece to Ash Like Snow. Then it stole a couple of plot mecha and mutated before finally eating my brain sometime last year. This fic, unlike ALS, is not finished. I'm still working on it and it takes a long time to write so updates will be sparodic at best. I have eight chapters typed but far from polished and who knows how many more to go. Also, let it be known that, like ALS, there are times I have ignored what is now known as canon for one reason or another, either because it wasn't known when I was writing, did not fit with what had been written and would have been dificult to change or it plain did not make sense to my mind. And, as final last point, the fic title comes from a song by David Bowie, every chapter title is a line from it, not in order, it's from the recording that was done for BBC Radio back in 1970 and it differs slightly in lyrics from the version that was released on the Space Oddity album.

That said, on with the show.

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Chapter 00: As The Sparrow Sings Dawn Chorus**

There were gun shots, people yelling, screaming in pain and panic, people in uniforms trying to help or hinder or both, he couldn't quite tell which, but it all seemed to amount to the same thing: people carted away in ambulances and police vans and a street full of frustration and anger, littered with torn banners, scrap metal and tears.

He watched with a mixture of fear and awe, wanting so much to look away but unable to do so as the reporter droned on in the background. He'd only come down for a glass of water, and if he was gone too long Lyle was sure to come and see what the hold up was, he knew that, but he was still stood in the doorway watching the news.

It was one thing to hear about it second or third hand, but another thing entirely to see it like this. He heard about it all, day in and day out, warnings from teachers and reports on the boards, front-page headlines of newspapers, no one ever had anything good to say about the people warring on the streets and tearing up the city, but no one could agree on who was right and who was wrong, everyone had different opinions. Sometimes he'd even heard their father cursing one group or another when he thought that they were all safe and asleep in bed.

As a young child that was when he'd known these people were bad, and, staring at the TV screen now five years later he could see it too, and agreed and had to wonder why it was happening. Why did people purposefully go out of their way to hurt each other like this? It wasn't like the times when he and Lyle would fight over the remote or the game controller, or even that one time they'd got into a fight with that one group in the playground last year over something derogatory one of them had said. It had been short and rough and had ended in skinned knees and split lips and all of them had been lectured repeatedly and put in detention for a week, but it was nothing like this. This was just brutal and the people in the street were outnumbered by those in uniform and there didn't seem to be any reason why they should still be fighting.

"Mam," he said, voicing the thoughts on his mind, still staring at the screen, "Why're they still fightin'? It's stupid."

His mother looked up from her careful work fixing the hole Amy had torn in her jeans when they had been playing in the park before dinner. Amy had never been afraid to try and match her two older brothers step for step and blow for blow. For a child of little more than ten years of age Amy Dylandy had one hell of a right hook, but she refused to tell anyone which of the twins had taught her it.

Neil could never quite be sure if their parents had been angry or quietly impressed when they had found out through a letter from school, detailing a fight their daughter had been in and won, hitting another student for saying things which did not belong on school grounds, or anywhere else for that matter. Both children had been lectured by the school, and the twins too by their parents, whichever one of them it had been that had taught Amy to punch, because they weren't telling either and personally both of them had never been prouder of their little sister. They now knew she could take care of herself once they'd gone on to secondary school and wouldn't be able to keep an eye on her from across the hall as they had done before.

An almost sad smile crossed Lindsay's face at the look in her son's eyes as she put down her darning, "Some people are just foolish like that, they can't see there's better ways ta do things."

"Then someone should tell 'em."

"People've tried, love, but they just won't listen to reason." She shook her head. "It's all been goin' on for too long, I don't think they know any other way ta communicate anymore."

"But," he gestured towards the screen, "they're involvin' innocent people out there; at least when we get in a fight we don't go hurtin' anyone that don't deserve it."

"You still shouldn't be fighting at all," she replied sternly, but the rebuke was lacking some of the usual fire. She sounded more tired, and maybe even worried.

"'Tis only if they really deserve it, well, 'sides for that one guy last week that thought Lyle were me…" He paused for a moment, remembering the look of frustration bordering on something else entirely that he couldn't name on his twin's face and changed his mind. "Nah, he definitely deserved it too."

"Neil!"

He had the decency to look at least a little guilty, "I know, sorry Mam, but still, what we did, it's nothin' like them…" He trailed off, back to watching the news broadcast, his smile slipping.

"What's wrong?"

The concern was impossible to miss, and as much as he wanted to say it was nothing, get the water and go before Lyle came looking, he couldn't. Surely by now Lyle had been roped into telling Amy a story or two before an overdue bedtime. He had a little time yet, right?

"They're fightin' over what that politician said the other day ain't they? It's been all over school all week an' Lyle and me weren't the only ones gettin' in trouble. A lot of people were sayin' things they shouldn't have, sayin' we shouldn't be here only with more words and cursin'." His own words were getting faster as he recalled the fight which had only been avoided earlier that day by the timely intervention of their history teacher reminding them that class was about to start and to get gone if they didn't want to be in any more trouble than they already were. "Danny were sayin' that his brother was goin' ta find 'em an' show 'em, an' they'd all get what were comin' to 'em, an' that the lot down at the protests wouldn't the last, an'-" He stopped himself dead, not knowing what his mother would make of what else the other boy had said. Danny's brother was only a couple of years older than him and Lyle, not even out of school.

"And..?" she asked, putting her work down and gesturing for her son to leave the doorway and come and join her, something which he gladly did, perching on the arm of the sofa. Normally he'd have been told off for such a thing, despite how much of a habit both he and Lyle had made of it, granted it was partly just to wind their mother up, but it had become habit nonetheless. "What else did he say, Neil?"

"Danny said he's got a gun."

"Did you report him?"

He shook his head, "Nah, I think Mr Richards overheard him, or at least heard enough given the way he were lookin' at him when told him ta stay behind after class, but it don't change anythin', there's nothin' he could've done about Danny's brother and there's nothin' that can be done about the people on the news that're gettin' hurt just for bein' themselves an' asking for fairness, 'cause others are stupid and can't see it's all wrong, so the politicians go makin' bad decisions an' it all starts over an' it's just gettin' worse and worse, ain't it? It ain't right, and," his voice dropped to barely more than a whisper as he stared at the floor, "I'm scared, Mam, for you an' Da an' Lyle an' Amy, an' for Grandma and Grandpa, it's just not…right. It's not supposed ta be like this." He looked up again, meeting his mother's gaze as she wrapped her arms around him and he was glad Lyle was still upstairs. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. "It's meant ta be peaceful now, that's what they're always sayin' in school an' at church, right? So, why ain't it? Why ain't it true, Mam?"

"As you said, people are foolish, love, they can't see what's right in front of them, and most of them don't even want change as sad a fact as it is." Her voice was gentle and he could hear her kind smile it in. "But there's nothin' for you to worry about, okay? They're not here and we're not going there and those children at school are all talk, an' I can tell you Danny's mother will have had his hide by now, and his brother's as well for such foolish rumours, so I want you to do something for me: leave them both alone, just ignore them okay? They're not worth your time, and it's not worth you gettin' in trouble as well."

"He would've deserved it if we'd hit him."

"Violence isn't the answer ta everythin', you know that, you an' Lyle both. You need to set a good example for your sister."

"I know all that, and I try, really I do, but they don't and they say stuff that'd get me in more trouble if I repeat it so I won't, they're the ones that need ta be told, not me, they're the stupid ones."

"They are, but there's nothin' we can do about it. However, you an' Lyle can still set a good example for them. Otherwise it just has to be left to the authorities to deal with-"

"But Da says they're all useless! They're no help, they just ignore it and it gets worse and when they do help they're no help because they go an' do things like that!" He pointed at the TV, the news recap, and the chaos that was printed all over it. "An' more people get hurt because everyone starts fightin' and yellin' and killin' again and-"

He had to try hard not to start yelling as well, he couldn't be scaring or worrying Lyle or Amy, he didn't want anyone to worry, but he could still hear the reporters and see the images on the screen of something that was happening not so far away and it was just report after report, just because of something stupid someone had said about things which weren't meant to matter anymore. It should have all been history, nothing but words on the pages of textbooks. He'd seen what had happened in the past, he'd paid attention in class when Lyle had fallen asleep and he could see history on the TV again only now they had more weapons, bigger weapons, and it was a frustrating and terrifying prospect and he hadn't even known there were tears in his eyes until his mother was silently wiping them away.

"'Tis okay, Niall, shhh…" She spoke softly and he felt like a child, especially when she called him that, as she had when he'd been small and Lyle had been ill with flu and he'd stayed up all night by his brother's side. She had called him Niall and said they hadn't been wrong, he was their little champion, and he'd liked how it sounded. Only his mother and grandmother ever got to call him Niall though, the first student who had tried had found themselves with a black eye. He wanted to live up to his name, he wanted be strong, for her and for his brother and sister, he was the eldest, it was his responsibility to be strong for everyone else when their father was away at work. "Everyone's here an' safe, there's nothin' ta worry yourself about. Those people'll protest and argue and yes, they'll fight, but we won't and we'll be safe, and all the fuss'll fade away again."

"But it don't ever go away completely, there's still stuff on the news, it just don't make the headlines, does it? It's still there an' it keeps on comin' back."

There was a hesitation but she still answered honestly, because she knew he knew the answer already.

"No, it doesn't end, but we can still hope an' pray for it."

"But when will that be, when will it end?"

"I don't know, Niall, no one can-"

"Neil, what's takin' you so long?" Lyle hollered down the stairs, his tone less than amused and more than slightly annoyed.

"Just comin'!" he yelled back, jumping down from the arm of the sofa, scrubbing at his eyes. "Please don't tell Lyle, or Da when he gets back, what I said?"

"I won't." Lindsay had already picked up her work again, smiling in her all knowing way and he knew it wouldn't matter if she told his father; she'd still keep his tears a secret. "And don't stay up too late, either of you, remember we're going to the shopping centre tomorrow – Amy needs a new summer dress after your adventures in the park last Sunday."

He managed a guilty smile in return at the subtle reprimand, "Sorry about that…"

"That's okay, just be more careful in the future."

"We will," he agreed and, quickly kissing his mother on the cheek, adding before running off to grab the water and argue with his brother, "I love you, Mam."

* * *

There was nothing but the sound of his breathing and the ticking of his watch to break the stillness of the afternoon inside the cold, dusty apartment where he'd set up. Crouched with his back to the broken window occasionally looking up to watch and listen with only half a mind as to what was happening down below. The room was perfectly still and quiet. He'd also found the cold didn't bother him and he closed his eyes, the familiar weight of the rifle in his gloved hands, just content to wait and listen and not hear a thing as he counted slowly to ten.

He opened his eyes again, turned and took aim, careful and measured as his hands moved through the now familiar routine, thinking nothing of it at all, coming to rest lightly over the trigger. He could see the target clearly, sticking out like a sore thumb among the others in the street, a fake grin on his face, lies on his tongue and a gun in his back pocket which he'd stolen at sixteen and wielded badly in a protest which had become a riot the day before the bombing. The brother of someone who once might have been a friend, but was now six feet under, just like so many others.

"Feckin' bastard deserves it."

He didn't hear anything in the silent, dusty room, but the crack of a gunshot was heard all down the street as the body hit the tarmac, bullet to the head, dead before he knew it, and everything was thrown into chaos, people running everywhere, scattering, confused and scared. People in suits, people with guns, people spouting nonsense and insults and no one saw him leave, bag slung over one shoulder.

There were gun shots, people yelling, screaming in pain and panic, people in uniforms trying to help or hinder or both, he couldn't quite care which, but it all seemed to amount to the same thing: people carted away in ambulances and police vans and a street full of frustration and anger, littered with torn banners, scrap metal and tears.


	2. 01: I Bless You Madly

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Chapter 01: I Bless You Madly, Sadly As I Tie My Shoes**

The post was late, but then, if it had been on time he would have been shocked. The post was never on time, especially not when it needed to be as he sat on the stairs and watched the letterbox, trying not to get impatient. He wanted the paycheque he was due, and he wanted it now so that he could pay off the bills he knew were also due in a few days time. However, he spared a glance down at his watch, if the post didn't arrive soon... Well, he could still cover the bills, he'd just have to break into funds he'd rather leave alone for now, leave for a later date, or rainy day, whichever came first, which given the local weather would probably be the latter but that was beside the point.

He decided then and there that he needed coffee, something, _anything,_ with caffeine in because he was talking complete rubbish, which, granted, probably had something to do with not getting in the previous night until gone three. But that too was beside the point.

Right now however, he needed his paycheque and needed to get gone, it wouldn't do to be late. Not today.

He glared again at the door and clicked the lighter in his hand in irritation. Five more minutes, if the postman wasn't here by then he'd leave and make a run back tomorrow or the day after and hope Liam didn't try using the forwarding address he'd given in the meantime. In fact, he jumped over his bag and walked back through to the kitchen, tearing the bottom half off the note he'd stuck to the fridge – _Thanks _and_ See you around_ – he might as well just not leave an address at all. Worst that could happen was that it would be forwarded to his grandparent's house… Actually, no, he could already see the look on Aislin's face, that idea was no good either.

Fine, he'd just have to stay until the post arrived regardless of the time and make it up on the way, the Lancia could take it.

Decision finally made the lighter was clicked shut and returned to his pocket as he looked round the small, cluttered kitchen, feeling a little more at ease already, and set about making that much needed mug of coffee. It did matter that he might end up abandoning it to run out the door if the post arrived before it was fit to drink, but it gave him something to do other than sit on the stairs and watch the letterbox, and pretty much anything had to be better than that. He could almost hear his grandmother telling him a watched pot doesn't boil, which, really, it would, it just seemed like it didn't, he tried it once.

He could hear when the phone started ringing but let it continue to do so as he pulled down the instant coffee from the shelf and frowned at the lack of milk in the fridge. "I'm not answerin' it, so you can get lost…"

Unsurprisingly the person on the other end of the line wasn't listening as it switched to the answer machine and Liam's familiar voice drifted through, "If you're still there, Neil, pick up the damn phone will you?"

"Nope, I'm neither here nor pickin' up the phone."

The sugar was beginning to look a little strange too and he was pretty sure something had got into it that shouldn't have so he tossed it out while Liam continued on and Neil tuned him out as soon as he mentioned the previous night's riots. It was old news, all he would have to do was put the television on to know what happened. Something he definitely wasn't about to do; he'd seen enough of it already.

"I wouldn't know if t'weren't for the fact I were there, you twit."

In fact the self same rifle that had turned the seemingly peaceful protest into the riot it had become was currently in pieces in his bag at the bottom of the stairs along with his coat and car keys and a couple of other trinkets no teenager should really possess. It was stupid, and he knew that, but he was good at it, better even than he was at his day job and no one had to know, not really. It served its purpose – just like his day job – paying bills, making ends meet and collecting up the various bit of information he wanted, piecing together the events that everyone wanted to own up to but no one seemed to have committed.

The sound of the letterbox rattled through the room a while later and he dumped his empty coffee mug in the sink, he'd wash it up in a second, it wasn't fair to just leave to there, he just needed to know if his paycheque had arrived.

"Junk mail, junk mail, pizza menu…" The first two were tossed straight in the bin, the third stuck to the fridge. "Bill, love letter…" Those were left on the sideboard with a smirk, and then: "…Ah ha!"

One crisp white envelope addressed to him. There wasn't much else it could have been really as he ripped the envelope open and quickly checked over the slip of paper inside, relieved to find that everything was in order.

He quickly washed the mug he'd left in the sink and stuffed the paycheque in his bag, slinging the whole thing over his shoulder, and grabbed his coat and car keys. One last sweep of the hallway and kitchen to check he hadn't forgotten anything and he was done, the house keys he had been borrowing for the past few months sitting neatly by the phone and everything in order, just how it had been when he arrived, yet now the time had come he found he almost didn't want to leave.

It was different to when he had left his grandparent's house. For starters Liam knew he was leaving, it wasn't the middle of the night and he didn't have to sneak out hoping he wouldn't be caught. It was bizarre, but it was almost lonelier to be leaving now than it was back then, perhaps because of the fact people knew he was leaving and wouldn't worry about it, he felt much more like a stranger just passing through.

Shaking his head he smiled and shut the door behind him, walking down the path to where he'd left the Lancia, chucking his bag down on the passenger seat and taking off down the quiet street, but not before sparing one last look in the rear view mirror at the place he'd called home these last few months.

"See you around, Liam," he said, "Hopefully."

* * *

Business was business however, and Neil was quick to get back to it, stopping in at the bank in the next town over to pay in his cheque and transfer the money from his other account to Lyle's university fund, making sure it would get there before the rent and tuition fees were due. Satisfied that everything moneywise was in order he filled up the Lancia at the petrol station and grabbed a drink and sandwich he could eat while driving, turned up the volume on the radio and started the journey back north.

He hadn't got more than a few miles before the phone rang though, caller ID telling him it was Liam again. Liam never rang his mobile, never rang anyone's mobile and they'd all always made fun of him for it, so he didn't have to think twice before flipping it open, "What's up?"

"Finally! You're damn near impossible ta get hold of you know that?"

"Been told a time or two." The relief in his friend's voice was all too evident as he tried to keep his own light and reassuring. "What'd you need me for?"

"How far outta town are you?"

"Not far."

Well, not far from_ a_ town, Liam hadn't specified which town it had to be.

"D'you think you can get a hold of Aiden's brother?"

Michael lived on the opposite side of the city and in the opposite direction to the way Neil was currently headed.

Checking the road was clear he performed a sharp u-turn and started speeding back the way he'd just come.

"What'd you want me to tell him?"

There was silence at the other end of the line.

"Liam, what happened?"

Liam's voice was quiet and fast, the words tumbling over each other, and Neil could see him pacing up and down the hospital car park, frowning and running his fingers through his hair, "You must know 'bout the riots last night, they're all over the news an' it's all anyone's talkin' about up here, an' well, Aiden were out visitin' Lisa, an' now they're both here." Liam stopped, and Neil knew what was coming. "It ain't lookin' good. I got hold of Lisa's parents, they're here now, but Michael's as bad as you for pickin' up the phone."

The attempt at a joke was appreciated, even if it was empty laughter, and half the things he wanted to say in reply he couldn't because he was the voice of reason. That was the role that was expected of him; he was everyone's older brother no matter what he did in his free time.

"I'll go an' get him for you, Liam, but you gotta go and take a break. Have a drink, somethin' to eat and relax, else one of these days you're put yourself in a hospital bed."

"I know, and," his tone was sincere and Neil wanted to tell him to save it for someone who actually deserved it, "thanks."

"No worries, I'll be there soon."

Hanging up he swore and threw the phone down, slamming his foot on the accelerator and flicking off the black Porsche that had actually been obeying the rules of the road as he ran another red light. If the police hadn't caught him yet they wouldn't now, he figured.

If he'd have known his friend was going to be in town he'd have suggested that they go elsewhere, meet later somewhere safe, regardless of whether or not he'd have been able to make it. They'd often been to Smyths in the past and that was somewhere they would have had to be out of the city centre when everything went down. He could have done it and then this wouldn't have happened.

Done was done though, and the fact of the matter was he needed to find Michael and get him to the hospital as soon as he possibly could. 'Not looking good' didn't give him much idea of time, other than it was quite possibly not long at all, and Neil stopped his train of thought there before the image of Aiden lying in a hospital bed could blur into one of Lyle and he focused instead on running through the list of places Michael could be and other people he could call who might know.

The fool was always out of reach when he tried calling, but Neil was nothing if not stubborn as he scoured the streets having received no answer at either Michael's flat or his girlfriend's having rung the bell and yelled loudly through the letterbox at both places, much to the annoyance of Michael's neighbour who had come to see what all the noise was about. Apparently Michael had left early that morning. The elderly lady knew because she'd been woken up by the amount of noise he'd been making.

Neil had made his apologies and excuses and left hastily, kicking the door on his way out and trying his friend's brother's phone again, letting it ring and ring in the hope he might pick up. He didn't.

Leaning against the car door and staring up at the apartment block Neil tried again to get his thoughts straight, there had to be some sort of logic to it.

"Think, where the hell's he gonna be? Too early ta be the pub, no uni today, ain't no one's birthday so he ain't gonna be shopping, no relatives and no job…"

Granted Michael had been trying to remedy the last point, but he'd not been having much luck; there weren't many jobs available right now to anyone, which was one reason Neil had taken the one he'd been offered up north, even if it did mean giving up a guaranteed place to live. Money was, unfortunately, more important right now–

"He wouldn't…" Neil glanced down at the phone still in his hand, and began scrolling through the numbers, answering his own question. "He would."

This time the call was picked up quickly, and Neil was met with laughter, real laughter unlike the stressed out laughter he had heard from Liam, "Yo, what's up?"

"Put Michael on the line."

"What?"

"Just do it, I know he's there."

He knew he was being sharper than he should, but Aiden had always hated his brother's gambling habits and it was sods law that's where Michael should be when Aiden needed him the most.

"Hello?" Michael's voice echoed down the line, unsure and confused.

"Go an' wait outside, I'll be there in five."

"Neil, is that you, mate?"

"Just do it, I don't care if you're in the middle of a game, if you're not there then I'm comin' in to get you."

"Chill out, what's wrong with you?"

"No questions, Michael, just be there."

Snapping the phone shut he knew he should have been a little kinder, a little more understanding. Everyone needed money, everyone had to get it somehow, and not every way was a good way. He knew he was a hypocrite for telling off others when he was paid to kill.

"Doesn't matter," he said to himself, throwing the bag which had been sitting on the passenger seat into the boot with a little more force than was necessary and getting back into the car, following the roads down and round to the old building where he'd find Aiden's brother, hopefully being good and waiting outside to be picked up. "It doesn't bloody matter."

* * *

Michael's expression promised an irritated lecture at being treated like a child, but Neil wasn't going to listen, and didn't even give him a chance to start, cutting in as his friend's brother got into the car, his own eyes fixed on the road.

"Aiden's in hospital."

He watched in the mirror as Michael's anger turned to shock and then to fear at those three simple words.

"What happened? Why didn't anyone tell me earlier?"

"Liam tried. You didn't answer your phone. So he sent me."

Michael didn't have a reply for that, and in some ways Neil was grateful for the silence that filled the rest of the short journey across the city. It meant he didn't have to think about it, about where he was going and why, and the selfish part of his mind was trying to come up with any excuse not to see Aiden. He didn't want to be seen as someone good when he knew what he would see was his fault.

He'd hardly had time to park the car before Liam was running in their direction – not in uniform, Neil noted with more than a touch of worry – and Michael was fumbling with the seatbelt and tumbling out.

Stopping long enough to lock the car Neil hurried over to meet them, already both talking quickly, in Liam's case with wild hand gestures as well, filling Michael in on details which were probably only meant for family members so Neil walked a little ways behind, carefully not listening.

Inside the building was the same as ever, whitewashed and too clean, as they followed Liam down hallways and up staircases, past patients and parents and loved ones.

"Here." Liam stopped suddenly and turned, pointing to another door, and he looked as if he were about to add something more but didn't, instead just stepping back to let Michael past, watching the door close behind him and blocking out the sound of the broken voices drifting through from the other side.

Finally Neil spoke, "How is he?"

Liam gave a small smile, "Probably a little better now."

"And you?"

"I'll…"

He trailed off, and Neil knew why; 'I'll live' seemed a cruel thing to say right now.

"I'll go grab us a coffee, you eaten anythin' yet?"

Liam shook his head, "Couldn't bring meself to."

"Well you will now, as I said earlier…"

"Yeah, I know. I'll just," he shrugged and looked around, almost lost in a place he knew better than his own back garden, "wait here I guess."

Walking back the way they had just come, making note of the floor and the room he'd left his friend outside of, Neil trusted he'd run into a canteen sign or a vending machine sooner or later as he sorted through the change in his pocket – at least enough for two coffees and a bag of crisps and chocolate bar for Liam. That sounded like a good plan, though he was fairly sure Liam would point out that Neil too should eat something. Sometimes they were just as bad as each other. Which was probably one reason Liam had chosen this career path – he was good at mothering people. It didn't, however, explain so well Neil's choice of career, but he'd long since decided that he was more than a little different to most people. Demented more like, Lyle would have said, and Neil was sometimes inclined to agree. He couldn't ever imagine himself going into medicine.

The search for caffeine and food took longer than he'd hoped, but less time than he'd expected, returning to where Liam still sat, not seeming to have moved an inch since Neil had left as he pressed the hot drink into his friend's cold hands, "Here."

"Thanks."

He sounded tired, something he hadn't been throughout his previous discussion with Michael.

"You sure you're alright?"

"You sure you can't stay, mate?" Liam's laugh didn't sound real either, hollow, and he shook his head, not looking up from his coffee and Neil wanted to say yes, sure he'd stay, give them all a hand, anything he could to help, but the logical part of him knew he couldn't – he needed the money the new job was offering. "Nah, don't answer that, it weren't fair."

"Thanks."

The coffee wasn't great, but it wasn't as bad as the stuff they used to get at the office. That had been, he was pretty certain, actually made from mud, or some form of mud-substitute. The coffee became a mindless distraction from the door in front of them, mindless and desperate but he wasn't sure he wanted to admit the latter just yet, no matter how obvious it was as the question he didn't want to ask but had to know the answer to rolled around inside his head.

"Liam?" He said finally, glancing in his friend's direction. "Am I even allowed ta know?"

His friend started to speak, a doctor's tone and phrasing, recited word perfect from some textbook or another, but then shook his head and started again. "Not really, not the details anyway, but," his hand tightened around the now empty polystyrene cup, easily crushing it, his voice even tighter, "it ain't likely."

Neil had half expected the news; it had just hung in the air, in the way Liam had been acting ever since the phone call. It still came as a shock though, to know another friend was on the other side of that door and one step away from death's door.

"Is there anythin' I can do?"

"Unless you can turn back time-" Liam bit off the sharp retort, "I think you'd be better off askin' Michael that, he's gonna be the worst hit."

"What about Lisa?"

"She'll be fine with a few stitches and bit o' rest, Aiden were always quick to play the knight in shinin' armour."

Aiden had saved her life, whatever it was that had taken his life would have taken hers if he hadn't acted the way he had, and Neil had to wonder if there had been a better way. He knew there was – none of it could have happened in the first place. No one fighting ancient wars, the reasons for which were long forgotten, no one being hired to kill, or start a riot, or finish up like this, finish up stupidly broken in too many ways too count.

Liam was right though; there was nothing he could do, that any of them could do, not really. However, his cheque book was still in his pocket and he got that out now, stealing a pen from Liam. He could always rely on Liam to have a pen somewhere about his person, never knew when it might come in handy, he said, like right now.

Resting the paper on one knee he wrote quickly, filling in the blank spaces before tearing it out and folding it in half and then in half again, writing Michael's name on the outside and handing both pen and paper back to Liam.

"It ain't much, but it might help."

"He won't accept it."

Neil could see the gambling club and hear Aiden's complaints and worries about his brother's habits, and could see the look of fear and horror when he'd picked Michael up off the back alley street.

"Tell him it's for Aiden, an' tell him I'm sorry." He couldn't stay any longer, and not because he was beyond late for the meeting with his new boss. "Let me know, okay?"

He didn't have to say what, Liam nodding in acknowledgement, "I will."

Then he was all but running for the exit without actually running, not looking back, and gave a hasty apology to the man he accidentally ran into on the stairs. Even through his slightly manic mind he noted that wearing shades indoors was a little strange, and the dark-haired stranger's curious smile more than a little out of place in a hospital ward.

Only once he was outside, in the fresh air, did he slow down and breathe, searching his pockets again for the car keys and looking back up at the large, white building behind him.

"I am sorry you know."

Money wouldn't fix things, wouldn't bring Aiden back, but it might be enough to keep Michael on his feet and give Aiden a decent burial.

It wasn't raining out in the car park, in fact it was turning into a very sunny afternoon, but he'd written the cheque for money from his so-called rainy-day savings, because back in there he knew it would be.


	3. 02: I Opened Doors

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Chapter 02: I Opened Doors That Would Have Blocked Their Way  
**

It was good to be back on the road again, driving away from town and trouble, heading up along the coastal roads where there were no speed cameras to catch him and a lot less risk of causing an accident. His phone remained within reach but out of sight, half expecting it to ring at any moment, but hoping it wouldn't. He didn't want to hear the news. So he focused on the road and the feeling of freedom the Lancia gave, the countryside whipping past in a blur of green, grey and blue.

Some childish past of his mind always hoped that if he could go fast enough he could out run them all and then everything would be well again, fresh and new instead of cold and suffocating, wrapped up in memories of the past.

"Just stop thinkin' about it you idiot," he muttered to himself, taking the next corner sharper than he should have.

If his old driving instructor had been here now, or any of those other times he'd been out at night, sneaking out from under Grandma Aislin's watchful gaze or between jobs, he'd have had a heart attack and keeled over dead by now from shock though maybe not for the number of broken rules. Neil had always been such a good little student, doing everything by the book and never a foot out of line, and now here he was anything but that good little boy everyone had known as he reached for the packet of cigarettes he kept in the glove compartment. A bad habit and he knew it, could hear the lecture his grandmother would give if she ever found out. The one his mother would have given had she still been there and he turned his mind's eye away from her disappointed gaze and back to the road.

The rest of the journey was long, longer than it should have been as he continued as far as he could along the coast before having to double back on himself to make his way inland, and if anything he lost even more time, but he didn't want to call ahead and apologise. He didn't want the line to be engaged should Liam call. So he decided instead that he would go direct to the office building and apologise in person, explain what had happened and hope that they wouldn't fire him before he'd even started. In many ways it sounded ludicrous, but he couldn't come up with anything better.

All the detours, purposeful and otherwise, meant that it was growing dark when he finally rolled into town, slowing down and pulling over to get the map from his bag and work out the best and fastest way to the office, hopefully before they closed for the night, which, a quick look at his watch told him, was soon. So, with that in mind he decided to forgo the stop at the corner shop and picked his way across town.

Parking outside of the large grey building, just another office block just like the ones on either side, and the ones that seemed to line all the roads around here, he grabbed his phone and locked the car, leaving everything else behind and jogging up the front steps, glad to find that the front doors were not yet locked as well.

"Hello?" he asked, walking across the empty reception area, looking around for just about anyone, even just a cleaner, someone who could point him in the right direction. Leaning over the desk, almost a little hesitant, "Anyone here…?"

He could deal, after a fashion, with emergences concerning friends, and was certainly confident in his abilities with a firearm, but in the real world, and place such as this where it was not always such a good idea to speak his mind he was less confident and it was disconcerting. He preferred jeans and t-shirt to a suit any day, a suit was too crisp and always reminded him of rain. He'd wear it, consider it a uniform of sorts, much like it had been at school, he just didn't like it, and he didn't like standing here looking like an idiot lost child who'd just wandered in off of the street.

There was a scuttling noise, the sound of something being knocked over and consequent bitten off curse as the door behind the reception desk opened to reveal a rather harried and tired young woman, "I'm sorry, we're just shutting up for the night, if you wouldn't mind coming back tomorrow I am sure I can find you an appointment then."

"I'm sorry to have bothered you then," Neil smiled kindly, inclining his head to her. She wasn't from around these parts, her accent was too polished, nothing like he usually heard day in and day out. "But, I'm afraid I missed my appointment today, I were hopin' to be able to see Mr Lewis ta explain meself…?"

"Ah." She disappeared from sight again among a flurry of paperwork, her voice drifting through from the office on the other side of the desk. "Mr Dylandy I presume?"

He cringed, "Tha's me."

The noise stopped suddenly and she appeared again at the doorway, "You're younger than I was expecting."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

She was older than she looked, giving herself away with her words and the confusion, almost disapproval, in her eyes at someone as young as him working such a likely stressful job as the one for which he had applied.

"I can give him a call, but I can't guarantee he'll see you."

"Thanks."

The fact she would even try was another sign of her age and he decided he liked her already and if there were other people like her here then he should be able to get along just fine.

So he waited and listened to the murmur of voices, taking in the clean look of the place generally, suggesting it was well run and respectable even if the receptionist looked as if she could do with a little extra help. Granted it may have just been that she was on her own today for other reasons, illness or holiday on the part of other members of staff for example. He could come up with a hundred reasons and scenarios if given a chance, but he didn't want to, so he stuffed his hands in his pockets and leant against the desk, staring mindlessly out of the doors he had walked in through.

It was subconscious habit that the lighter made its way to his hand, turning it over and over and over.

"I'm sorry sir, but smoking is prohibited on site."

He mentally kicked himself for not hearing the receptionist return, putting the lighter away and turning back to face her again, "Sorry."

Nodding, convinced that she now had his full attention again, she continued, "If you can make it quick Mr Lewis will see you on his way through, he is not happy that you did not show up today, however he is willing to listen."

"I'll do me best ta try and salvage me good reputation then, really, thanks…" He trailed off, not knowing her name.

"Desmona Smith," she supplied.

"Thank you, Ms Smith."

"Please, just Desmona."

"Desmona then, an' still, thank you."

She gave a smile, possibly the first one he had seen from her, "You're welcome, Mr Dylandy-"

"Just Neil, please, I ain't old enough ta be called 'Mr'."

It just sounded wrong on too many levels, he wasn't his father and he wasn't his grandfather either, and they were the only two people he knew who had ever been called Mr Dylandy. He was just Neil because Mr Dylandy just made him too uncomfortable.

Desmona's smile was that of a mother, wholeheartedly agreeing but taking it as a joke so as not to come across as condescending. He wondered if she had children of her own, and whether they were waiting for her or if they too had already left home.

"I have to get back to work now, but good luck, Neil. I hope I'll see you again in the morning, bright and early and on time."

He laughed at the reprimand, feeling a little of the day's weight leave him as he did, "I'll do me best, Desmona."

She gave an approving smile, nodding once more and retreating back into her office, leaving him alone at the reception desk waiting for his new boss to appear and trying to decide how best to explain the situation.

That was when his phone began to ring and his smile vanished, almost willing it to be a wrong number, a prank call, even Mr Lewis having given up on him already and firing him over the phone instead of waiting until he was downstairs.

The caller ID told him what he didn't want to know though: Liam's name in flashing green light staring at him from the screen for the second time that day.

"…Neil?"

The voice on the other end of the line as well was unmistakable, as broken and as quiet as it was he knew his friend's voice well.

"Yeah, tis me…"

Liam was silent so long Neil began to wonder if he had just left the phone on a table or the floor and walked off somewhere when he spoke again.

"It's happened, it were about an hour ago, but…"

Neil shook his head, regardless of the fact he knew Liam couldn't see him, "Tis okay, I know why, an' it's okay."

He hadn't expected to been phoned immediately, knew he would probably be too far away to help, and he was, but it didn't stop him wanting to get back in his car and drive straight back down, do anything he could to just help, to alleviate the guilt.

There was another silence which seemed to stretch on forever, but couldn't have been anytime at all.

"Michael's grateful you know, for you comin' an' getting' 'im an' all, I haven't given 'im the money yet though, thought I'd wait till tomorrow or somethin', or leave it with Jess, she showed up not long after you left, guessin' Michael called her."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good plan." He hesitated and then added: "How're you doing? All of you?"

"Been better." There was a choked kind of laugh and Neil winced. "Jess's taken Michael back ta hers, and she ain't gonna let 'im out o' her sight, he weren't so good leavin' here."

"An' you? Where are you goin', Liam?"

"Home I guess. I can't stay 'ere all night, they won't let me."

"No, but you shouldn't be alone neither." Liam shouldn't have had to been alone because he should have still been there, sitting in the whitewashed hospital hallway with his friend. It shouldn't have all happened in the first place. "Go down ta your Ma's an' stay there tonight, an' don't bother goin' ta work in the mornin', alright?"

"We've still got people here, they still need us, I got work ta do-"

"Just do it, Liam, please? I can't see your ma lettin' you go in anyway, not once she knows what's happened."

"…What about you, Neil?"

"I'll be alright, I know a couple o' people in the area I was goin' ta crash with anyway."

"You sure…?"

"Yeah, you just make sure you get some rest, an'," he didn't want to add the last part, but it was important, "let me know when the funeral is an' I'll be sure to be back for it, promise."

"Yeah, I will."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, bye…"

"…Bye, Liam."

The phone line had already died, leaving him with the dial tone as he sunk to the floor, closing his eyes and resting his head against the polished wooden desk.

"Would you like tomorrow off as well?"

He shook his head, knowing who was standing just a foot or two from his right, having heard the clipped sound of the black shoes and dull thud of a briefcase being placed on the floor, "No, sir, an' I'm sorry I'm so late, it won't happen again."

"I should hope not." The older man's tone was gentle. "I'm sorry for your loss."

"He were a good friend."

The words were stupid, it didn't matter if it was a friend or a member of the family, a death was still a death, and he would still be in for work bright and early and on time. He sounded heartless in his own head but money was necessary to live, for Lyle to live.

"You should go home and get some sleep."

"Thank you, sir, I will."

He waited until his boss had left before picking himself up off the floor and putting his phone back in his pocket, taking out his lighter and stepping back outside, turning up his collar against the cold wind which had begun to blow and making his way slowly back to the car.

* * *

He'd lied about having somewhere to stay, but he had grown used to sleeping in the car, it was his car and therefore his home having never actually owned any of the other places he stayed. He didn't think anyone he knew would think it a wise idea, and had Liam known then his friend would have had his head for sure. It was cold when he woke up and had obviously been raining overnight, the water creating rivers down the street and pooling between the cracked bits of concrete pavement, feeding the grass and scraggly weeds.

The clock told him it was just gone seven, time to get up and get on with his day, especially if he wanted anything to eat before work. The weather, however, told him it would also be wise to get his coat from his bag, and possibly a scarf if it was as chilly outside as it was inside the car along with a change of clothes; it wouldn't look good to turn up for work in yesterday's crumpled jeans and t-shirt. So a quick rearranging of the contents of his bags left him with everything he needed for the day neatly packed in a bag he could take with him and everything he shouldn't have well hidden and out of sight.

This time of day the neighbourhood was just beginning to show signs of life, a few people waiting for the bus, a man out walking his dog, a couple of students clearly making the walk of shame having stayed out too long last night and still not having quite recovered. The sight made him smile, both wondering if Lyle was ever caught out so late and hoping that he didn't. It wouldn't have surprised him either way.

A coffee, a couple of slices of toast and use of the café's bathroom facilities later he decided he was at least beginning to look a bit more human, even if he wasn't quite sure he felt it yet, leaving a decent tip and a smile for the waitress on his way out to the street. He didn't miss the look she gave him either, maybe he'd have to make this place his new local. The service wasn't bad, and while the coffee was nothing compared to the place back home it was a big step up from the cafés down Liam's way.

The place seemed a lot quieter since he'd been here last, perhaps too quiet, and perhaps that was what had given it away. That and the car parked on the corner. Normally he'd have thought nothing of it, but there were very few black Porsches around, a rich man's car, and to have seen one twice in as many days, no matter how much he had been travelling struck him as strange. If his other work had taught him nothing else however, he knew to not make his observations known, swinging his bag over his shoulder and continuing on down the road, not looking at the car again, but instead watching the distorted, faded reflections in the shop windows on his other side.

If someone was following him then there was no use going back to his own car, it was too far out of the way and too secluded, anyone with half a brain cell wouldn't try anything in a public place, not unless they either had a suicide wish or actually wanted to go to prison, and, as useless as it would be in any kind of fight should it come to that, he did have his pocket knife. He didn't want to deal with work, not of that sort, not today. Today he was going to go to the office and push papers all day and forget about killing people. He wanted dull, boring, safe work, instead of the sort that wound up with people dead.

Someone somewhere hated him though it seemed and he began to walk a little quicker, catching a glimpse of a man with short blond hair and shades who looked to be staring right at him. Another leaning against a wall, young, grinning, a black jacket, and just something about him screamed danger. Lyle had always been a fair hand in a fight, and he had the largest and most laid back grin Neil had ever known. They were the ones he was always the most cautious of, the ones he left well alone whenever possible. The third almost made him miss a step, and he wondered what kind of joke these people were pulling as he could not have looked more conspicuous if he tried, ducking behind someone's hedge.

To call it perplexing was an understatement, and if this was a new form of scare tactics or mind games then the bizarreness of it all might just work. Especially if these three were just a distraction, surely no one could be that bad unless it was on purpose.

He resisted the temptation to spin round and search for anyone else, trusting to luck he'd be aware of them before they could try anything, watching the glass, waiting for an opportunity as one by one the strangers slipped from sight and reappeared time and again. Yet there was still no sign of anyone else.

Maybe they were just students being stupid.

That, unfortunately, was about as likely world peace.

He'd already caught the glint of a silver gun beneath the black coat of the grinning one, and the movements of a soldier in the fool. He'd have been a fool himself to pass them off as students after that as he finally stopped outside a book shop, seemingly interested by the new display.

Glass was not the best reflective medium, but it worked well enough, and sure enough a second set of footsteps stopped just behind him. Whoever it was wanted to be found, wanted their presence to be known and Neil didn't know if this was a good thing or not. He didn't like being followed and it was now a natural reaction to switch from being Neil to being someone else, shutting down his own accent, a trick he'd learnt in language class back at school. He only ever used it for work.

Eventually he settled on, "Your comrades aren't very good, are they?"

He could still see them, crouched behind the menu board of the restaurant across the road, and he could see the man with long black hair and shades, his expression unreadable. The same man he'd bumped into in the hospital hallway the previous day.

"No, they are not; however, they should not be here."

"And you should be?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He didn't have time for games, he had to get to work, only a couple of roads away now.

"We wish to enlist your services."

He sighed; it was about work then. He hadn't expected anything to turn up so soon, and wanted to know how they knew him in the first place.

"No."

"Just like that?"

The other man's tone was almost accusing, yet still came off as subtle, smooth and curious.

Neil turned and walked away, "Just like that."

"Why?"

"Because I have to be at the office in half an hour, I have a job and bills to pay."

The stranger didn't stop him, simply saying, "Just ten minutes, Neil Dylandy, that is all I am asking for."

Those words did make him stop, and he turned back to face the stranger. To know his face or location was one thing, but his name was known to no one at all, it was code name or no name and he reached for the knife in his pocket, useless or not it was better than nothing. If they knew his name then they could know of Lyle, and that, more than anything, made him wary.

"Give me one good reason why."

Ignoring the veiled threat the stranger replied, "We have information you may be interested in regarding an incident five years ago."

"What do you want in return?"

"I told you: your help."

Tempting, but he'd heard it before, leads that led nowhere. Who was to say that this would be any different? He wanted to say no, to keep walking and not bother looking back, to throw the whole damn thing in, but he'd already answered, "Five, and it had better be good."

The stranger smiled, "Thank you."

That was different, like everything else about this stranger and his friends and their unorthodox stalking abilities.

He began to walk again, away from the shop front, somewhere he could see what was going on and they would not easily be overheard. The small park he had passed a little way back would suffice, sitting on a bench under the shade of the trees, it would not look abnormal. They were just two people talking before work, old friends perhaps or maybe colleagues.

"So, what do you want my help for?" Neil asked.

There was a pause, deliberate and calculated, "What do you think of this world, Neil?"

He smirked; perhaps this guy had actually done his research and done it well if this was his opening offer. Still, if it was a game of words he wanted, well, he had a brother who was twice as good as him with whom he had competed more than a time or two over the years.

"What do you think I think?"

"I think that it needs to change," he replied levelly, almost conversationally, "And I think that you think so to, otherwise you would not be indiscriminately shooting gang leaders and terrorists in your spare time."

At that he did laugh, phrased that way it sounded more like a passing hobby than anything even vaguely serious, "If it makes a difference."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Well, at least I could say I tried."

"Past tense…?"

"Do you really think I could get away with this for life? They'll catch up eventually. I'm not stupid but neither are they and everyone here works money no matter who they claim to worship or what they claim to be fighting for. I'll be sold out someday." He grinned, it was true and he knew it all too well, he was good but good just wouldn't cut it, not in the long run. "So, how do you plan to fix it?"

"For starters there may not be a much higher chance of survival, however, security is vastly improved and you will certainly be better paid."

"And the catch?"

"You leave everything behind and Neil Dylandy ceases to exist."

"Interesting catch, you know, this is sounding less and less legal."

He was pretty sure he'd not really been completely 'Neil' for a very long time, but the option was always open, and that was how his friends knew him, so to give up everything…? Everything would also include Lyle, and he would not compromise his brother's well being and future for anything.

"I never said it was legal."

Still, if this job paid better than the one waiting down the road and was guaranteed for an extended period of time he wouldn't have to worry about university fees for next year or finding any other jobs.

"So, who are you really?"

No name would mean no one could trace him or find Lyle because of him, or find Liam, or anyone else. He wouldn't have to bring anymore shame to the family name, and wouldn't have to see his mother's disappointment in his mind's eye, and Lyle could live well enough for all of them, he could even send some of the money back to his grandparents, some form of a thank you and an apology for screwing up everything so badly.

"Will you accept the job?"

He might never see anyone again and that idea stung a little, but it would be better this way, he'd be keeping them all the hell out of harm's way.

"Sure, why not, I'll join you on your crazy vendetta, but on one condition."

"Which would be?"

"Give me one day, one day to sort things out here and then I will get in contact with you and you can give me the final details of where I should go, who I should talk to and all those things."

He'd die young anyway, under one name or another, either shot by some guy in a back alley or in whatever blaze of glory this fool was a part of; it didn't make that much of a difference in the end.

"We are Celestial Being," the man smiled, almost feline in manner, but touched with relief as he handed over the piece of paper upon which he had written a phone number, "and we plan to eradicate war."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"We fight, and that is why we need you. You have been selected by Veda to pilot the Gundam Dynames."

It might have well have been Greek for all the sense it made, but the irony of fighting to eradicate war was not lost on him as he grinned and shook the stranger's hand before walking away, back towards where he had parked the Lancia the previous night and away from the rows and rows of office buildings.


	4. 03: So Much Has Gone And Little Is New

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Chapter 03: So Much Has Gone And Little Is New**

The café hadn't changed. He didn't know if he'd been expecting it to or not, flashing the waitress his most charming smile as she bought him his coffee.

"You're early today, Lyle," she replied, returning the smile.

"That'd be because I'd be Neil, not Lyle."

He laughed as the young woman's eyes widened in shock. He didn't know if he'd been expecting to be mistaken for his brother or not, but it was funny nonetheless and strange after so long to be called Lyle. It also reassured him that he wasn't wrong, that he'd remembered the right place and that Lyle's habits hadn't changed that much.

"It's been a while, I didn't recognise you!" she began to babble, "How've you been?"

"I've been good, busy with work here an' there, but since I were in the area I figured I'd stop by." It was the truth. It was just missing a few of the details which would have made it a lot less friendly than it currently sounded. "An' you? How've you been, Michelle?"

The blonde laughed, and it was a sound that was as innocent as always, but more mature now, and he was taken back to their years in secondary school, holding hands on the way home and stolen kisses down at the park. It seemed so childish now and such a long time ago, even though it had only been a few years.

"I'm good," she nodded, "actually, I'm takin' a course in engineering, just finished me second year."

He leant forward, grinning widely, genuinely both interested and amused, "Glad ta hear you followed through, parents kick up much of a fuss in the end?"

"A bit," she admitted, pulling a face, "Uncle helped me talk 'em round though, an' gave me a hand with the admissions since I might've been a bit, well…late."

He could see it happening all too easily and laughed, only to be smacked round the head with her notepad.

"Sorry, tis just nice to know some things never change."

She crossed her arms, but was still smiling, "Well, neither do you; you're still incorrigible." A little of the brashness, the outgoing tomboy everyone had known for years slipped away, replaced by something softer, older. "Then again, Lyle's no better."

"Do you speak to him often?"

His own voice was softer too as he watched her speak of his brother.

"We dated for a while in first year, would you believe he recognised me from when we were little?" She laughed again at the memory. "We were both a bit lost at the time, first day on campus, so gettin' lost were pretty much a given." There was a shrug which may have almost been an apology. "I actually got his name right, if only 'cause I knew you weren't comin', but he was happy I hadn't called him Neil and it all just went from there. I never mentioned us."

Neil shook his head, in many ways he was glad she hadn't, it wasn't something Lyle needed to know. "Tis fine, darlin'."

"I didn't want him to feel like a replacement I guess."

"I know, you may have always been a bit crazy but you always thought of others first, tis one of the many things I loved about you."

"Ever the sweet talker, Neil, but we broke up last year, still talk sometimes; he's often in here after class." There was something a little wistful in her tone and he was struck by how much she had honestly grown up since he'd last seen her. The Michelle he'd known had been a bit of a tomboy, but could also throw one hell of a princess tantrum if something went wrong or she didn't get what she wanted. This Michelle was more the one he'd spoken to late at night over the phone or trying to reach for the sky and dreams from the park swings.

"You still care about him."

"Yes," she replied, "but he doesn't love me, an' it ain't fair ta tie him down. I have university to finish an' a job here ta keep me busy, not ta mention friends who wouldn't let me mope about it, and, as me mother says, there's plenty more fish in the sea."

"Saner and less flighty fish."

The blonde gave a long suffering sigh, "As I said: incorrigible."

"Were you honestly expectin' anythin' else though?"

There was a moment before she replied flatly, "No, not from you."

He had to laugh at that, "Still, I'm glad to hear you're doin' so well for yourself, Michelle, t'were a nice surprise ta see you here."

"You too," she glanced back over her shoulder at the clock, "Look, my shift's about to finish, if you like we can continue this conversation somewhere else, I know a couple of pretty decent bars down town."

The offer was more than a little tempting, the choice between continuing the easy going gossip and banter with his ex and someone he would still consider to be a friend, or a probably highly awkward conversation with the brother he'd been actively avoiding for nearly five years that could easily wind up as an all out argument. Normally it wouldn't have been any choice at all, but Lyle was the reason he was here in the first place, so he shook his head, "I think I'll stick around for a bit, I have a couple of things I need ta do, but if you leave me your number…?"

She'd already torn a page from her notepad, scribbling down her phone number almost too eagerly. "Just remember to actually call me this time," she said, handing over the slip of paper and tucking her notepad and pen away, not saying goodbye, or even see you later as she turned and left, her head held high.

Neil looked down at the paper, just her number and nothing else written in thick black biro. He folded it neatly and put it in his pocket, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug she had brought over, nearly cold now, and stared out of the window, waiting for Lyle's probably inevitable arrival. He would have to call her later.

Another coffee and a cigarette break later he was still waiting. He'd already been frowned at once for sitting there clicking his lighter but it had become such a nervous habit he couldn't help it, searching for the familiar face in the crowds outside. He almost missed it when the bell above the door chimed and Lyle walked in, throwing an afternoon greeting to the lady behind the counter. Neil fixed a relaxed smile on his face and watched as Lyle frowned upon seeing him there. For a minute he thought his brother was going to turn around and walk straight back out the door, and Neil wouldn't have blamed him if he had, but instead he strolled purposefully over, wearing an almost equally fake grin.

"Long time no see," Lyle greeted him, slipping off his gloves and tucking them in his back pocket before taking a seat opposite, sounding almost American asides from the faintest hint of Irish in his tone and Neil knew he'd done it on purpose.

"You too," he replied, mimicking Lyle's lack of accent but picking something blander and already wanted to kick himself for it; he was using his work voice on his own brother, "Didn't expect to see you here."

Lyle shrugged off the lie, letting it pass, "They've got the best coffee here."

"True," he agreed, thinking back once again to the mud they used to pass off as coffee at work. "Got to say I've never found anywhere as good as this."

"Been looking?"

This time it was Neil's turn to shrug, "Sometimes."

Lyle's expression was not amused, but there was also something of the hellishly stubborn brother Neil had always known, the child who would dig his heels in and point blank refuse to go and visit their aunt with the cats, those fur balls were devils and he never seemed to be able to get away from them in one piece. Both aunt and cats were gone now though, just like so many others.

"What have you been up to then?"

"A little of this, a little of that, you know how it goes." Again Neil shrugged, reaching for the lighter he'd set aside, he just needed something in his hand, he reasoned. "And you?"

He hoped he was imagining the emphasis and slightly biting undertone in Lyle's reply, "Normal job, normal university life, there's never anything particularly interesting happening here."

Sitting across from his brother there were a thousand and one things he wanted to say, more than half of them starting with the words 'I'm sorry', but he couldn't give voice to any of them, and so he didn't say anything. Running his fingers over the cool metal Neil let the silence reign, taking the opportunity instead to study his brother a little better. He'd seen Lyle in passing and from a distance plenty of times, but they hadn't spoken in five years, and Neil hated the fact that neither of them had been brave enough to face the other. However, there was little he could do to break the wall between them, sometimes he wasn't even sure if he wanted to, and certainly not if it meant Lyle found out what he actually did for a living.

Right now though Lyle just looked annoyed and probably rightfully so, but also tired and Neil hoped he wasn't working himself too hard. The course he was taking was difficult and Neil knew he had a part-time job as well, he just hoped his brother wasn't taking on more hours than he could manage whilst remaining healthy.

"You alright?" he asked, his concern evident even to his own ears. He may have been far more blasé about his own wellbeing and lied freely, but Lyle was his brother, his twin, and Neil worried about him a lot.

"I'm fine," Lyle replied, a little surprised by the question and still a little wary, but both were quickly brushed aside with a shake of the head. He was back to the same old stubborn Lyle, just refusing to tell Neil a damn thing instead of refusing to see relatives. The surprised look however was quick to return, Lyle sounding highly incredulous as he asked, or maybe demanded, "When did you ever take up smoking?"

Neil blinked, confused, before remembering the lighter in his hand, the one he had gone back to clicking, and the packet of cigarettes at his elbow. He should have put them both away earlier. No tall tales or excuses coming to mind, no way to write it off as someone else's problem as he admitted, "A couple of years ago, everyone has their bad habits." He clicked the lighter shut and replaced it purposefully on the table, trying not to see the accusations in his brother's eyes, adding perhaps a little too hastily, "I've been trying to kick it though."

"Good." Lyle's reply was sharp, clipped, and sounded a lot like Aislin in lecture mode, even if it was their mother's eyes that stared him down, making him feel like a child again, "Smoking kills."

He gave a wry smirk, "I know."

He knew smoking was bad for his heath, but then so were the guns in his car and the man he'd spoken to that morning, but sometimes that was all that kept him sane and grounded in reality instead of lost in nightmares. Everyone had their ways of coping and everyone was different and Neil didn't know what he'd expected from his meeting with Lyle but it wasn't this dead silence. Part of him wanted Lyle to get angry, to yell and make a scene, something – anything – other than sitting there quiet and reserved drinking his coffee and looking completely disinterested. Part of him wanted to yell back, to ask why he didn't care, but Lyle did care, he knew that, saw it in the way he carried on the family name with pride and didn't slink in the shadows and every year without fail brought flowers to the family grave. Lyle was everything Neil could never be and while he was glad his brother was doing so well he couldn't help but feel a stab of envy.

Pushing his empty coffee mug aside he picked up his belongings and walked towards the door, not wanting to look back but still catching his brother's reflection in the glass, head bowed and defeated.

"I'm sorry, Lyle," he said quietly, shaking his head and pulling out Michelle's number and his phone, he had one last thing to do, but he wanted to know where to meet her, "So damn sorry."

* * *

He stared up at the cold, stone building; it had been years since he had been inside, nearly five to be precise. Sure he'd been round the grounds, but never actually inside and he wasn't quite sure why, or he did but the reasons sounded strange, weak and foolish. Yet they still made sense to him.

As children he and Lyle hadn't been the best of Sunday school students, and hadn't listened as well as they were meant to the sermons and lessons and had behaved less than properly, but they'd still gone, every week, as a family to the church and it had been magical in its own way to his young mind, especially at Christmas. Christmas had meant lights and snow and presents and songs and more food than anyone could eat, everyone was always smiling, no matter what was in the news. On those days there was always something a little more magical about the old building with its uncomfortable benches, thick books with strange words and old men who waffled on about things he didn't quite get. Everyone was always more alive, enthusiastic, and the large hall would ring with the sounds of joy and good wishes and there was just something more to the words of the sermons and songs and he would actually pay attention.

Yet no manner of promises or cajoling could get him to set foot inside the church he was now staring up at after the funeral.

At first his grandparents had respected his wishes, accepting it and letting him stay at home on a Sunday, but as time went on Aislin began asking him again to come with them, and when he shook his head and said no she began to ask why.

She had been making breakfast for herself and Ryan when she looked over and asked him why he didn't want to come back with them and why he was turning his back on all he had been taught.

He had looked up from the essay he had been writing for history class, putting down his pen on the kitchen table and, seeing the honest love and concern in his grandmother's eyes, he had lied to her. It had been kinder to tell her that he just wasn't ready yet than he had given up, he reassured her that he still had faith, but he couldn't go, not until he could step foot inside without seeing the black clothes and caskets.

She had smiled sadly, her face and voice full of understanding, promising him that she would go with him, he just needed to let her know when he was ready and he had smiled broadly and thanked her before turning back to his work, refusing to let the smile slip, feeling as if he had betrayed her faith in him because he had lied when she only had his best interests at heart.

After that he'd honestly tried, picking up the bible he'd discarded, abandoned on a dusty bookshelf and retrieved the cross he had been given from the bottom of a drawer where it had lay beside a half-filled puzzle book and a couple of Lyle's old, broken games no one had thought to throw out if they even knew they were there. He'd sat down on the edge of the bed that day while Aislin and Ryan were at church and tried to read, but he couldn't, they were just words on a page, mocking him, and it wasn't long before he slammed it shut and threw it across the room, leaving it where it landed after hitting the wall and returning downstairs to make his own breakfast and get back on with his essay. It looked stranger than ever on the shelf after that, with its broken spine and crumpled pages next to the other well kept volumes of everything else.

The book had long since been relegated to the charity bag, sitting now on someone else's shelf, more well loved and well used than it would ever have been otherwise, yet the cross he had still kept, and it was in his hand now as he started up at the church he hadn't been inside since the funeral. It was one of the last things he had left to do and the one which in some ways was the most important but it was also the one he wanted to do least because unlike the conversation with Lyle there was no hope in hell that this could go well.

"You seem lost."

If he'd had his handgun on him the other man would have been dead before he knew what hit him for making Neil jump so badly, snapping him from his thoughts. He'd reached, on instinct, for the weapon that wasn't there, still stored away in the boot of his car along with everything else, even his pocket knife had been left in the glove compartment. His other hand, however, he realised a little belatedly, now stung like a bitch having clenched his fist around the small cross and it was digging into his palm, leather gloves also left behind. Whether he'd acted in expectation of a fight or just because he didn't want it seen he didn't know, both answers were probably true.

Either way he didn't think the old man was any threat, not unless this church had changed a hell of a lot more than he'd thought over the last five years.

"Nah," Neil replied, shaking his head and smiling easily, making himself relax and erasing any sign of his previous tenseness as nothing more than a trick of the mind or the light. "Just thinking were all."

"Of what, if you don't mind me asking…?"

"I've been away for a long time, I were just thinkin' how much has changed."

"Well," the old man walked past, holding open the old wooden church door, "everyone is always welcome here, no matter how much they may have changed, we are all God's children."

_You have no idea_, Neil thought with a stab of what may have been anger, or may have been sorrow, _just how much._

He didn't have a choice about whether or not to go through with his plan now, he could still turn and run if he really wanted to, as Lyle had done five years before, but Neil had always been the one to go through with his plans and ideas, no matter how idiotic were. Maybe it was pride, but more than likely it was just the selfish stubbornness of having to prove something to someone, even if that 'someone' was only himself and no one else was watching or listening or even had to know.

So he took the last step across the threshold and into the church, noting the look of confidence and encouragement on the old man's face. He wanted to say it wasn't such a big deal, it was such a small thing after all really, just stepping into another cold, stone building, but the words wouldn't come as he nodded his thanks and kept walking, albeit a little slower than before, taking in the old, well kept hall.

The rows upon rows of wooden benches, spare books and sheets neatly tucked away in handy places, ready to be pulled out for those who had forgotten theirs or bored children who wanted something to do. He, Lyle and Amy had once spent an entire service drawing in the back of the spare books; they'd almost been annoyed when it was over and they had to leave. At least they would have had it not been for the knowledge of their mother's Sunday lunch to follow and the look in their father's eye which spelt Trouble for their actions. Their mother's cooking had been promise – or threat – enough to even make the twins tidy their room or stop fighting on the stairs. They'd had to apologise for drawing in the books, but after that there always seemed to be scrap paper on hand, and even a couple of spare pencils.

His footsteps echoed in the emptiness, sounding too loud, and he'd gone far enough. He knew enough, looking up at the familiar, foreign, stained glass and the cross on the wall; he knew, with an almost wistful sadness, that there was nothing left here for him. None of the childish magic remained; it was just cold stone, hard wood and empty words.

He could still see Lyle though in his mind's eye, sitting across the table from him in the café, nothing said, and dropped to his knees, head bowed and hands clasped in prayer, reeling off words that five years of disuse could not erase, speaking as easily as if he had them written on a page in front of him, not missing a word or skipping a beat. In a lot of ways though he wished he'd forgotten the words as well, at least then he wouldn't feel like quite so much of a traitor as the litany running through his mind differed from the one spoken aloud.

_Dear God, if you're out there, then I know I haven't been good, or true, and, no, I don't believe. I don't care if you turn your back on me, I think, no, I know, you already have, but I ain't here for me own sake, I'm here ta ask just one thing: that if you're there at all at least let Lyle be happy. Don't let him make my mistakes, not that he would, he's a damn sight smarter than I ever were, but, look out for him, because I can't, not where I'm going now, because, I guess I just want-_

_ Dear God, it's been five years since I've done anything but curse you for the death of Mam and Da and Amy, but I'm here now for Lyle, 'cause he's still here and he's me little brother and he deserves a hell of a lot more than what he's been given in life, so I'd beg you for a good life for him. Keep him out of trouble and away from evil, all the death and killings out there on the streets, grant him luck in life, and love and work and… Just give him something ta believe in, because I can't…_

Looking up from the floor he dropped his hands to his sides, his voice barely above a whisper, "You know what, he can hate me if he likes, but please, don't let him forget I do love him…amen."

Neil knew the old man had been watching, but he neither knew nor cared anymore if he had heard as he got to his feet again. Sparing one last look at the altar and decorations he unwrapped the chain of his cross from his hand, staring at the simple, silver object, cold and lifeless, and let it slip from his fingers. He knew it wouldn't break from being dropped on the floor; he and Lyle between them had done worse, by accident or on purpose, over the years. If being hurled with great force at brick wall couldn't break it then the old stone floor certainly wouldn't.

"Are you sure?"

This time the voice of the old man didn't surprise him, he'd been expecting those words ever since he'd stepped inside, if anything he was surprised it had taken this long to ask.

The answer was easier than he'd expected, even if it did hold a note of regret as well as finality. "Yes," he turned and looked the old man in the eye, "I'm sorry, but I'm done."

"Is there really nothing left? You used to be such a good boy, have we really lost you both?"

"Used to be, I ain't now," he shook his head, "An' Lyle may yet be back, maybe not in person, but he were always more forgivin' than I were."

"I really can't convince you to change your mind an' come back to us, Neil?" There was a quality of almost desperation in his old Sunday school teacher's voice. "No one would have wanted this for you, we can all be forgiven in the eyes of God, if only we believe, no matter what we have done in the past."

"Me mind's made up, an' I'm the one who can't forgive, therefore how can I expect ta be forgiven?" He gave a wry grin, stepping past the old man and walking back towards the doors. "God left me the day he made me watch me sister die, and nothing can change that, an' nothing can bring her or me parents back."

"Then why'd you come?"

There was no accusation in his voice, just sympathy and a desire to try and understand the contradictory actions and words.

Neil paused in the doorway, and for a moment he was fourteen again and sitting in his grandparent's kitchen writing an essay, "Because Lyle's me only brother an' because I had a promise ta keep."

He let the door swing shut behind him, he didn't want the old man, kind old fool that he had always been, to see what he'd become as he shook the regret from his shoulders and reached into his pocket for the battered packet of cigarettes and sliver lighter. He wasn't the same child who had laughed at the magic the cold, stone building held and now, with his back to it, walking away again, he felt more judged than ever, and, he clicked the lighter, he knew he'd been found guilty.

* * *

It had been strange talking to Michelle again, so much time had passed but at the same time it was as if he'd only been gone a week or so. She spoke differently, looked different and five years ago they certainly wouldn't have been meeting in bar and staying up until five in the morning. But there was something comforting about the way they could still fall into old habits, teasing and joking, even if the words were different and held a few more meanings, some carefully laid out between the lines, others blatantly obvious.

It was stranger still to wave goodbye and know that it was just that: goodbye. There was no more later, nothing like that, and maybe she had guessed as much, a touch of unfamiliar loss mixed in with the stubbornness in her hazel eyes as she nodded and smiled, "Bye then, Neil, take care alright?"

"You too, Michelle."

"And Neil…?"

There was a hesitation and he waited in the doorway, looking back over his shoulder, "Yeah?"

She shook her head and smiled, free and easy and fake, she looked beautiful, "Give us a call if you're ever in the area again."

It sounded like a question and a demand, completely uncertain, and he flashed his best grin again, perfectly confident, "Sure thing."

He shut the door quietly and walked back to the Lancia hoping that Michelle believed his lies, trying to believe them himself and allowing no time to look back again, following the familiar roads of the city to an address he had often visited. He was grateful for the hours of meaningless and much needed chat with his old friend, catching up with the real world and all the good things he'd almost forgotten. He'd also decided, after hearing her views and talking over some of his own, that there was still one more thing left to do.

The key was slipped off the chain as he pulled up and killed the engine, staring up at the apartment block before making a move, up the stairs, down the hall and silently through the door. The place wasn't messy, not in the way their room used to be, but it was still cluttered; textbooks and loose leaves of scribbled on paper, empty mugs and takeaway boxes, music and a scattering of furniture. He didn't pay heed to any of these though, slipping through the door on the opposite side and into the bedroom.

Lyle was still sound asleep, a book half hidden under his hand and pillow. Neil picked it up and put it on the table, sorting out the blankets so his brother wouldn't be cold. All of these were automatic reactions, but not why he was here as he pulled the silver lighter from his pocket, running his fingers over the engraving he'd had done a couple of years earlier. It was simple, just his initials, but it had seemed appropriate that something self-destructive should be pretty much his only possession with his name on. That needed to stop though, whatever it was he was going to be doing now it was not going to be safe, and he didn't need anything else hindering his decisions or reaction times. He needed to quit. The world needed to change, needed to be made, if not safe, then at least better. No more stupid actions creating more stupid people like him hell bent on revenge.

If it wouldn't have risked waking Lyle he would have laughed at the, not irony, just idiocy of the whole thing as he set the lighter on the table, picking up in exchange the pair of worn leather gloves. They would be a constant reminder of why he had chosen this path, and who he was fighting for.

"Sorry," he muttered, slipping the gloves on and looking back at his sleeping brother with a wry smile, "there's something I have to do. You'll be okay."

He turned away, walking out on Lyle like he had done Michelle, "Take care, alright?"

The door shut behind him a little louder than he would have liked and he quickened his pace, running by the time he had reached the bottom of the stairs, front door slamming but he ignored it as he jumped in the car and took off roaring down the quiet street.

Already his phone was in his hand and dialling the number he'd memorised and destroyed as he glanced in the rear view mirror.

Lyle was leaning out the window and he looked furious. Neil didn't blame him, but it was better Lyle was pissed off and hating him than trying to follow him.

He watched as Lyle disappeared from sight and the phone was answered.

"Grave?" he asked, foot back on the accelerator as he ran another red light, breaking all the rules of the road and not caring for more reasons than he could count. "It's Lockon, Lockon Stratos."


	5. 04: Those Who Promised

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Chapter 04: Those Who Promised To Put Their Faith In Me  
**

Space, he decided pretty damn quickly, was cold and bizarre. He also thanked whoever had the sense to put in handrails because up here gravity wasn't quite the same, sure it existed, artificially created through programs and machines, but it wasn't the same, wasn't as strong, and he might just have found that out the hard way upon stepping foot in the, not building, hanger perhaps, he'd have to find out later, find and memorise but that was old habits talking. Yes, he'd found out the hard way that gravity wasn't quite the same, having to apologise to the poor people he'd crashed into because he couldn't keep his balance. It was not the most graceful of introductions. Then again, there hadn't actually been anyone there to meet him, no familiar black shades of the clever or the foolish, no one he had seen back down on Earth just a few days ago, and no one who looked as if they were waiting. So he'd started walking, figuring it wouldn't be long until he ran into someone he either recognised, running late, or someone who could point him in the right direction.

He'd been wrong, and he wasn't sure how he had managed it but he had got himself completely and utterly lost. Then again, every corridor looked the same, with their sharp corners and heavy doors, all with handrails, and all looking exactly alike, no room numbers or street names here. It was going to take some getting used to and he hadn't seen another living soul since leaving the hanger and wasn't too sure he could remember the way back either. Lyle would have found it hilarious, seeing him here at another crossroads of metal practically leaving his choice of direction up to the toss of a coin were it not for the fact he wasn't sure that it would work, that the coin wouldn't just hang there like a confused little Christmas decoration. The thought was almost enough to make him try it, just to see what would happen.

He was reaching for his pocket, the handful of old loose change with a sense of 'well, why not?' when he heard a voice, young and high pitched, and he stopped, turned, looked back the way he'd come and wondered exactly which direction the echo was coming from. It felt horribly out of place, a child's voice here. Why were there children here in the first place? Whose smart idea was that? A war zone was not a place for children, let alone ones who sounded so innocent and he was already making his way back down the hall, trying to find out the whys and the wherefores.

In many ways he needn't have bothered however as the child came hurtling round the corner, chasing after a small orange ball that was zooming along ahead of her, short curly hair bouncing behind her, eyes bright and he has to take a step back before either the orange ball or small girl ran him over.

"Hey," he laughed, unable to help himself, "be careful, Am-"

The child stopped and looked back and he shut up, both because of the look in her eyes and because of the words he'd nearly said. He hadn't done it on purpose, he knew his sister was gone, and this child's eyes were not as bright as they had first seemed, holding something a little more distant and serious.

She studied him for a moment, and then looked back at the orange ball she had been chasing, now hovering in the air, flapping its ears in a curious manner, "Wait a minute, Haro." Then, as 'Haro' began making its slow way back down the hall towards them, she looked back at him, "Are you new here, mister?"

She was polite, not in the same way children back home were, a little tongue in cheek seeing how far they could push it, but honestly polite.

He nodded, crouching down so as he was on the same level as her, as gave her one of his friendliest smiles, "Yeah, I seem to be a bit lost though, do you think you could help me?"

If she knew where Grave was he could ask the man what the hell children were doing here.

The girl nodded, once, "Where were you trying to go?"

"I was meant to be meeting a man called Grave, but…"

"He's been busy today," she informed him. "I'm sorry you got lost because of it."

"It's okay, it was bound to happen at some point; this place is huge."

"Yes," she replied, and then to Haro, now floating beside her, "We have to find Mister Violento."

"Main meeting room, main meeting room," Haro chirped, and Neil should have guessed earlier that it was indeed a robot, metal and shining, but brightly coloured and he wondered if the Haro was the girl's pet. It seemed a little odd, but then cats and dogs just wouldn't be practical, not in space.

She looked up and down the hallway for a moment, before finally stating: "This way," and continuing down the path she had been chasing the robot along.

Neil shook his head, staring for a moment at the girl and her robot friend who were already a few steps ahead and stood up. Space was definitely strange.

"So," he began again, easily falling into step with the young girl, "What's your name?"

"Feldt," she replied, "Feldt Grace, and you?"

"Nice to meet you, Feldt, I'm-" He had to stop himself saying 'Neil Dylandy', the automatic reaction to any such question from a child, but not here, because here he wasn't allowed to be Neil. So he smiled again, as if his name was ordinary, like everyone on Earth went by such weird names as, "Lockon Stratos."

Again she nodded, accepting it but saying nothing else, so he tried again, pointing to the robot, "And that's Haro?"

"Yes."

"Haro's your friend?"

"Yes, he is."

The robot was a 'he'? Neil wasn't sure how anyone could tell, but he'd take the girl's word for it, she obviously knew more about the small orange ball than he did.

"Nice to meet you too, Haro."

The robot flipped upside down, rotating in the air, ears flapping again, "Nice to meet you, nice to meet you."

Whatever the robot was he laughed, it was fun, and the small girl gave a tentative smile as well, looking up at him through her dark hair, rusty in colour, like the photos of old, long since gone estranged family he'd seen in his grandmother's albums with their accompanying tales of distant friends and relatives. Maybe somewhere along the line she or her parents could have been among them, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come, knowing it was foolish and that a lot of people in the world had red hair, it was not that uncommon.

"Are you coming to work for Mister Violento?" she asked quietly, a note of something that might have been hope in her voice as they turned another corner, more and more people coming into view, finally back in the realms of what he guessed passed as civilisation around here.

"Yeah, Grave said he had a job for me, he was quite insistent about it."

Feldt took in this information as she did everything, with a small nod, seeming to file it away inside her mind before answering, "Maybe…"

She trailed off, as if thinking better of whatever she was going to say, but Neil could take a guess, given the nature of the people he'd seen so far, even just in passing through these corridors now, no one seemed to pay the small girl much heed, and the robot was probably her only friend.

He gave a wide grin, much like the ones he used to give Lyle whenever he'd come up with another harebrained scheme involving breakfast at an hour which Lyle had later deemed 'stupid o'clock in the morning and never again', "I'm sure I'll see you around, Feldt, in fact I'll make sure of it, you can help me figure out where a few other things are around here."

"I can do that if you like, Mister Stratos."

"Please," he winced and laughed, 'Mister Stratos' didn't sound as bad as 'Mister Dylandy', but it still did not sound right, "Just call me Lockon."

"Mister Lockon."

"No, just Lockon, there's no mister in it at all."

She gave him a look which would have called him stupid had anyone else been wearing it; on her it was just confused. "Just…Lockon…?"

"Yes."

"Lockon, Lockon."

"That's right, Haro, just Lockon," Neil grinned at the robot which had stopped outside a set of doors that looked just the same as every other set of doors they had passed through. "Guessing we're here then?"

"We're here, we're here," Haro confirmed.

Now they were here he wasn't quite sure if he should knock, or walk straight in or what exactly, and maybe Feldt could see his petty dilemma because she continued up to the door and knocked, a strange sound considering it was made of metal, echoing and harsh. Then she stepped back to wait and Neil tried not to feel a little sheepish, rather like the schoolboy who had been sent out to wait in the hallway for disobeying the rules, all too aware of the obvious bag he was carrying and scruffy street clothes, he looked and felt all of a sudden very out of place. This was a long way from home.

The metal door slid open however and a young man with platinum blond hair and an infectious grin peered out, leaning on the doorframe, "What can I do for you, Feldt?"

"Mister Stratos-" Neil resisted the temptation to smack his head on the wall at immediate her reversal regarding his name, especially given the other man's familiar and casual tone. "-Is here to see Mister Violento, Mister Fermi."

"Ah, is that so." The one Feldt had called Fermi turned his grin on Neil, at least now he had a name for one of the three idiots who had been failing to stalk him across town, namely the most dangerous looking one. "We were wondering where you'd got to."

"No one came to meet me, I had to try and find my own way." It was easy to keep his own tone light, matching the breezy nature of Fermi. "Luckily I ran into Feldt and Haro here."

"Well, that's good."

He could see out the corner of his eye that Feldt was beginning to feel awkward, that sense of being a third wheel and spoken of instead of to, so he smiled at her, "Thanks for the help, Feldt, and you too Haro."

The robot seemed delighted with the comment while the girl was perhaps more embarrassed, "You're welcome."

"I'll see you later then, have fun and don't run in the corridors; we don't want you hurting yourself."

The girl nodded once and then did the strangest thing he had seen yet. She gave a salute before turning and walking away, quickly disappearing into the crowds of people going to and fro up and down the hallways, Haro only seen a time or two more above the heads and then both were gone from sight and he was left staring after them in disbelief.

"Well," Fermi said, pushing off from the doorway and stepping aside, "We've been waiting for you long enough, Lockon Stratos, so we'd best begin, there are busy times ahead."

* * *

The doors hissed shut behind him, the room itself, like the rest of this place, was all metal and sharp edges, and all the eyes in the room were on him. He felt even more the student that was in trouble with the headmaster, but quickly shook it off, dumping his bag on the floor and crossing to the table around which various members of the organisation seemed to be gathered.

"Thank you, Hixar," Grave said, nodding as other man took his seat again.

So, Neil now had two names out the half a dozen odd people in the room: Hixar Fermi and Grave Violento. Well, at least he wouldn't be the only one with an obscure non-name. In fact having met Feldt Grace as well it seemed to him that it was expected for everyone here to use names that were complete nonsense. That, however, brought him back to the first point he wanted answered before anyone started on anything else.

"Just one small question," he said, catching Grave's attention and making sure he kept it before continuing, smile never faltering. "Why are there children here?"

"People here have families; where else should their children go?"

The dark haired man made it sound so simple and logical, but Neil didn't buy it.

"You're all here to 'eradicate war', right? And, since you've asked me to come and fight for you, that means that things are going to get blown up, there is going to be death, in my books I'd say that makes this a war zone, an'," he caught himself just before his accent could slip back into his words, "And so I would say that isn't a good place for children to live."

To his credit Grave did seem to understand his view point, "No, but, their families are here, Krung Thep itself is not a 'war zone' as you put it, it is their home, and as such they have every right to stay here. Now, please may we get on with business?"

An answer had given but the question itself had been ducked and glossed over, Grave could have done well in a job in the media or as a politician should he have chosen another path. Neil was not pleased with the response, and would have preferred to press for a better answer, but he knew it would do no good and that it would also look bad. Further arguing with his new boss on the first day was not the best of plans. So he let it slide with a shake of the head and took a seat, annoyingly unable to read the studious look in Grave's eyes, though Hixar was clearly amused while the white haired woman who had been as good as hidden at the back of the room was thoughtful, the electronic device in her hands set aside as she watched the proceedings.

Mostly it was nothing he hadn't expected, the rules on secrecy and a rundown of what was essentially one long-term mission along with the details he had needed the most, namely about his pay. That was something he made a mental note of, already figuring out the best way to transfer it out again and into Lyle's account without it seeming too suspicious. It was doable certainly. It was just that it would involve a little more thought, though probably when he wasn't being bombarded with information like this.

There we a few things, however, he hadn't been expecting.

Being told he was going back to school was one of them.

"What?" he asked, a little stunned at the apparent footnote in the plans. "Why?"

"To make the rest of the work easier," was the rather dry reply Grave gave, a subtle reprimand written between the words at Neil's never have done anything in further education, passing only what was necessary before disappearing off into the back alleys of life and work. "Languages, mathematics, engineering, politics, all of these are things which may be of use to you in this job."

So, he was going to be in foreign countries, alone, calculating and fixing things that were likely to make the rest of the world explode in response? That didn't sound particularly sensible and he was beginning to question how sensible he had been to take up the job. Unfortunately there wasn't going to be any turning back now, Grave had made that rather clear over the-

"-and your phone."

"Excuse me?"

He needed to pay attention and stop making up worse-case scenarios, this job could still turn out to be easy, a lot easier than some others he'd taken.

"Your passport and phone, we need them," Hixar repeated, holding out his hand expectantly.

"Sure," Neil shrugged, getting up and walking back to his bag, riffling through the side pocket for the items in question – the phone wasn't meant to work up here and he had rarely been out of the country – and handing them over before returning to the table.

He watched as Hixar leafed through the passport and clicked through the few remaining messages that Neil hadn't already deleted off his phone earlier, and he knew what was coming next. He had half expected it ever since he had first been told just how secret this secret organisation was, but he had still hoped they might not, because it meant there really wasn't any turning back as he watched the passport burn and the phone hit the metal with a sickening crunch, the remaining parts of his identity as Neil Dylandy had just been completely destroyed. He didn't mind the passport; those things were easily forged if you knew where to look. It was the phone that he watched as the cracked and broken device was swept away. Grave knew that was the only way Liam could contact him, knew what had happened to Aiden, and had still destroyed it anyway.

He had hoped that they wouldn't do that, or that they might wait a few days, which, really, had been foolish, so he was glad he'd actually backed up everything on the train on the way up, had his card duplicated by a less than reputable dealer he'd just happened to run into on his way to the station, and now had, tucked away in the bottom of his bag among his clothes a perfectly working spare phone and passport. No one here had to know that though, and anyway, he had liked that phone; he'd had it for years without having any trouble with it at all unlike most of his friends who seems to have to buy a new one every six months or so for one reason or another.

A new phone and passport were then presented to him, code locked, and with all the necessary numbers already stored in the database, for communicative use between members of Celestial Being only. That went without saying really, but had to be stated anyway, like the bags of nuts which had warnings on that the packet may contain nuts. He and Lyle had actually asked their father about that one and he'd been just as confused as them. Their mother had told all three of them to stop messing around and hurry up because the shopping was not going to do itself and she would like to get home sometime before next Christmas.

"Tomorrow," Grave continued, and Neil had to remind himself to pay attention, "Ian will show you the around the hanger and give a brief explanation-"

Neil tuned out again, more lectures and speeches, okay, he'd pay attention then instead, right now he was actually quite tired having not slept at all on the way up as he had probably been expected to do, and was more than grateful when the meeting was adjourned, pocketing his new belongings and grabbing his bag again. Then stopped again, hesitating by the door as he realised he had no damn clue where his room was or how he would go about getting to it unless there was a small girl and little orange robot waiting outside, which, in all honesty there shouldn't be otherwise he was going to really start getting worried about the nature of the place and possibly have to start plotting a breakout.

"Mister Stratos?"

"Lockon, please," he answered, a phrase he decided was probably going to become second nature very fast at this rate, turned round to see who was addressing him this time, half expecting another lecture on something highly useless right now. Instead he was greeted by the quiet woman with white hair he'd seen at the back of the room. She hadn't said a word the entire meeting, so he smiled, trying to shake off the fact he really just wanted to sleep. "I'm afraid I didn't catch you name, Miss…?"

"Chall Acustica," she supplied, adding another strange name to his rapidly growing list, a strange name for a strange lady. She seemed almost nervous as the others filtered past, leaving in one direction or the other, all with more work to do no doubt, frowning at Grave when he gave her a know-it-all smile on his way past.

"It's nice to meet you, Miss Acustica," he replied, taking in her neat and tidy uniform, tightly buttoned and covered from neck to toe in blue and black, eyes hidden behind glasses and hair. She struck him as very reserved, but nevertheless with a certain sense of authority, rather like Jess, and he hoped that she, and Michael, and everyone else were doing alright.

"That was an interesting entrance you made."

He shrugged, "I was lost, I was lucky to run into Feldt."

The woman seemed to shift awkwardly, "How was she?"

"She's cheerful, and she was no trouble at all, if that's what you're worried about."

Chall shook her head, "She's a good girl."

"Yes," Neil agreed, and then added quickly before the even more awkward silence could fall, "You wouldn't happen to know where my room is, would you? I should probably put this away rather than carry it around with me everywhere, might get a bit bothersome after a while."

A look of what might have been relief passed over her face and she nodded, "Of course, this way."

Chall set off at a brisk pace, glad to be out of the meeting room, or out of the conversation, one or the other or maybe both, Neil couldn't be sure, following her as he had followed Feldt – down too many hallways that looked exactly the same – and he wondered not for the first time how he was ever going to remember it all.

"I shall ask Eco to find a map and have it sent to you first thing tomorrow, it would not do to keep getting lost, and," she almost trailed off, "some areas may be a little more dangerous than others, without the correct training, and I'm sure you have noticed that the gravity is better in some places than others."

Yes, he'd noticed that, nearly tripping over his own feet when the handrails had stopped on his trip with Feldt and Haro. The robot had laughed, the girl had not.

"Thank you, that would be appreciated, Miss Acustica."

The name Eco wasn't immediately familiar; if he had been in the room previously then Neil couldn't put a face to the name. That was one of the things they'd been quite quiet about, the only new names he'd learnt had been Hixar, and now Chall. Ian and Eco would be tomorrow's introductions.

"Despite looks, most people are on first name basis, Lockon."

"I'll bear that in mind, Chall," he laughed. "Are there any I should know about who aren't?"

"I should think the only one you might run into would be Doctor Moreno."

That made sense, though it did mean that figuring out the rest of the chain of command could take longer, it wouldn't be hard per say, it would just take a little more time and observation. Though her presence in the meeting room, however, and the fact she could ask others to do things without their objection, put Chall Acustica higher up the chain than he might have originally placed her, lower than Hixar though, and Grave, who seemed to be ranked the highest so far, though couldn't be the top since he had been ignored by the Hixar and the other two who had been trying to stalk him.

Back on Earth it had been so much easier – either the guy in the best suit with the shiniest nameplate was the one in charge or it was the one everyone cowered before. The idea of Grave with a shiny gold nameplate on his door or with people running scared from him was absurd but strangely entertaining. Unfortunately he now wouldn't be able to look Grave in the eye for the next week without sniggering.

"Here." Chall stopped suddenly and Neil consequently nearly walked into her.

He really badly needed sleep.

The door looked like every other door he'd seen today.

"Thanks."

"Work starts early tomorrow morning, so be sure to get enough rest, Lockon." He was sure there was another silent reprimand in there somewhere. "And thank you."

"For what?"

Chall had already gone though, disappeared round another corner and he didn't have much hope of catching up again since she clearly didn't want to say anymore.

"Place gets stranger by the minute," he muttered to himself, unlocking the door and walking into what was probably going to be his home for the foreseeable future. Sparse and mostly metal just like everything else, white sheets, a few spaces to put things and a large desk. That probably meant reports. A clock, set to Greenwich Mean Time, had been conveniently nailed to the table, no excuses for being late.

The desk was ignored though in favour of the bed, more comfortable than he had expected being one of the few things that didn't seem to be made of metal of one description or another.

There were one or two more things to be done however before he could make full use of the comfortable bed which he didn't want to get off of really, because he was quite fine right where he was.

"Get up will you, work first, an' then sleep."

Talking to himself may have been the first sign of madness according to most unwritten playground laws but it did get him back on his feet, kicking off his boots and pulling his bag open, digging around for the phone to check for messages. He almost didn't want to see the little note in the corner of the screen that would tell him the date of Aiden's funeral had been set, but it wasn't there, just a blank screen glowing faintly blue in the dim room, never having bothered to turn the light on.

The phone went away again, his work one on the desk, and pulled out from the depths of his bag the photo he'd brought with him when he'd left his grandparent's home, the whole family out one bright summer's day for a picnic. He had this one because he'd been the one to take it, running off with their father's camera, far enough back so that he could see everyone, from his mother's laughter and father's resignation to Lyle's cheeky grin as he swiped another cake and Amy looking as an angelic as could be in her grass stained dress, and Aislin and Ryan looking on in that all knowing way grandparents did. It wasn't a good photo, slightly wonky because he'd been laughing at Lyle, but it had always been his.

Flattening out the slightly crinkled edges he tried to decide where to put it before realising that he couldn't. The photo couldn't go anywhere, because the photo was taken by Neil and he was now Lockon.

"I'll do it, you know." He said quietly, staring down at the photo in his hands, "I won't let you down."

The photo then went away, tucked inside his fake passport next to his own phone and the spare keys to the Lancia. Those would all be left in his bag and guarded with his life, a few scraps of metal and paper.

Collapsing back on the bed completely exhausted he was soon dragged down into a deep, dreamless sleep as the effects of the last few days finally caught up.


	6. 05: Where Money Stood

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Chapter 05: Where Money Stood We Planted Seeds Of Rebirth  
**

"And this is GN-002, Dynames," the mechanic finished, crossing his arms and grinning up at the huge, silent machine. "The Gundam you will be piloting."

"Dynames, huh?" Neil smirked, following the mechanic's proud gaze. "Well, old man, I hope you don't expect me to be taking out on a battlefield looking like that."

The mechanic snorted, "Of course not, for starters I doubt you know how to pilot it yet, but rest assured…" At that point the older man's grin took a turn for the slightly more sadistic. "We'll be finished before you."

"If that's a bet then I'll have you know I'm a quick study."

Ian's only response was to laugh and clap him on the shoulder as if to say, 'yeah right, dream on, kid" as he walked past, leaning on the railing, admiring his handiwork, however unfinished it may have been.

Ian had been an enthusiastic teacher, bright and cheerful like Hixar but a little less refined with his worn work clothes and stubble, much more like Lyle or Liam with that edge of mischief in his warm eyes. It had been easy to identify him as one of the failed stalkers, leaving only one more to find a name for. Ian had also been the first person in years to call him 'kid', greeting him without any pretence of formality and that had immediately earned him points. Neil had, of course, replied in like, deeming him an 'old man', waiting afterwards for a reprimand that never came, and so those names had stuck a lot better and a lot quicker than 'Ian' or 'Lockon' or any variation thereof. It had been surprising, but also nice to know that people still a sense of humour round here and he was actually beginning to relax, taking the time to joke and not just to learn.

Shifting his gaze from teacher to machine he had to admit it was impressive, regardless of the current state it was in, towering high above him even from the level they had entered at, the most useful one, Ian had said, since this was the cockpit. Or at least would be once it was complete. Right now it was just a gaping hole and a collection of loose wires connected to jutting bits of coloured metal but, joining Ian at the railing, he could see that it was taking shape fast. Glancing down he also decided even faster that he was glad he didn't suffer from vertigo, because that was a long way down.

"How tall is this thing?" he asked, more than a little awestruck. It was one thing to read numbers and letters in a file; it was something else entirely to see it in person.

"Just over eighteen meters, and I'd say we're about two thirds of the way up here, though we don't usually store them upright like this." There was laughter in Ian's tone. "Did you want to take a closer look?"

"Can I?"In some ways he defiantly wanted too but in others he didn't, there was something wholly wonderful and at the same time terrifying about the massive war machine, so different from all those he'd seen on the news.

"Sure, just be careful of the Haros."

He gave Ian a strange look at the plural, "Haros?"

"Yes, didn't you-" The old man stopped, shook his head and laughed again. "Of course, you've already met Feldt and the orange Haro. There is more than just that one, they're workers here."

"Makes sense," he agreed, robot workers wouldn't need paying and wouldn't need feeding like human workers would, "any reason why the orange Haro is different?"

The question seemed to take Ian a little by surprise and he shook his head slowly, "I don't think it is…"

Neil filed the information away for later, not knowing if the anomaly was useful or not, and turned his attentions back to Dynames and the robots he now knew were also called Haro that were dancing around it. "So, how do I get to it?"

The switch back to questions he knew the answer to was clearly a relief as Ian found the gate and showed Neil the impromptu scaffolding they'd set up for easy access, explaining that this was usually why they didn't keep the machines upright, leaving him with a second reminder to be careful and saying he'd be back shortly, he just had to go and check something.

Walking across the scaffolding, waving a hello to the Haro he passed, he kept half an eye on Ian's retreating back, disappearing through a side door, and listening to the voices that drifted through along with the faintest strains of a radio, the latest reports regarding the ongoing war between Krugis and Azadistan.

The edges of the metal were sharp but dulled by his leather gloves as he leaned across the would-be cockpit, now paying more attention to Ian's voice than the machine, speaking, Neil assumed, with one of the other crew members.

"They're foolish, the lot of them, are you sure we can't do anything yet?"

"Says you," replied a voice Neil didn't recognise, slightly rough but nowhere near as bad as some people he'd spoken to down on earth, not even as bad as Ian's. "And, no, you know that, Eco's not fully trained and none of the machines left are fully functional."

"I know, but still."

"We'll get there eventually; Veda says-"

The rest of the conversation was lost as the Haros drew closer, drowning out the noise of the voices beyond the door.

It certainly left him with something to think about though as he tried to engage the Haro that was now working right next to him in conversation. The Haro, however, wasn't interested, and again he had to wonder about Feldt's little friend that acted so very different from these ones as he waited for Ian to return, running his eyes over the framework and details of the Gundam.

Seeing the door open again and Ian return Neil jumped down, gradually growing used to the strange half-gravity of the place, stumbling only slightly this time, give it a week or so and he'd probably have it down, yelling across the room with a grin, "Not bad."

"I'd like to see you do a better job," Ian retorted, looking back up at the Gundam. "A few more weeks and the main body should be finished, after that it's just tidying up and fitting the rifle, and then we'll want you back here sharpish so we can get those settings done."

That too made sense, though he hadn't exactly been expecting it, everything here was so far advanced he'd kind of thought it might have been done automatically. Before getting his licence and the Lancia he'd driven Ryan's old Ford and his grandfather had told him off more than once for not changing the settings back; being a little taller than his grandfather if he didn't put everything back the way he'd found it then the seat was too far back for Ryan to reach the peddles. The fact, however, that this machine needed to be 'fitted' as it were made him wonder just how specifically the pilots were chosen and whether there was anyone else here who could have piloted the Gundam.

"Sure," he nodded, "just one question."

"Fire away."

"What sort of state are the other Gundams in?"

Ian did a fantastic double-take and Neil laughed.

"You're a quick one," he said, relaxing again. "I'll have to remember that. Still, it's not as if it's a secret or anything." The older man began ticking off the machines on his fingers as he spoke. "001-Exia, is the furthest from completion, there've been a couple of complications in the design spec. 003-Kyrios and 004-Nadleeh are both looking good though, right on schedule, even if production has been pushed back so Dynames can be completed quickly."

He chose not to comment on the delays, instead going with: "Interesting names."

Ian shrugged, "They were chosen by Veda, as were you."

There was that name again, Veda, the super computer that was apparently running the show. It was a name that was thrown around a lot, respected and accepted as the be all and end all of everything. To Neil it was not only strange but almost worrying that everything was being decided by an inanimate collection of data, no matter how smart it was supposed to be a machine was still a machine, so how could it make any real decisions?

"Right now though," Ian continued, "I'd say it's about time for lunch."

"Sounds good to me," Neil agreed, "I'm going to go and get a jacket first though, so I'll see you later."

"Space is cold, didn't anyone tell you that?"

"Probably, just not used to it I guess."

The older man gave him a look that reminded him of Ryan and sighed, something about 'kids these days', before turning and waving as he walked away, "Take care, Lockon."

"Yeah, I will, you too, Ian."

* * *

As he'd expected Feldt and Haro were already in the canteen, sitting at a table on their own and seemingly perfectly content to remain that way, out of the way of the sea of people coming and going, but Neil wasn't having any of that. Back home the only time someone had to eat alone at the table was when they were refusing to finish their dinner, because one had to finish their dinner before getting any pudding or being allowed to watch television. It was supposed to be a punishment for naughty children, not a normal, everyday occurrence as it seemed to be here.

Grabbing a tray of 'food', at least that's what they said it was, but Neil still wasn't sure; it didn't look like any food he'd ever seen, he purposefully took a seat opposite the young girl who was quietly eating her own meal.

"Hi, Lockon," Haro chirped, "hi, Lockon."

"Afternoon Feldt, Haro," he greeted them both, grinning and patting the little robot. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine, mister Lockon," Feldt replied politely. "And you?"

"All the better if you'd drop the 'mister'."

"Sorry," she apologised quickly, ducking her head, looking down at her tray.

He shook his head, poking at the food on his own plate, "It's okay, some habits are hard to break." Glancing up and pointing his fork at the plate he added, "Is this actually edible?"

The young girl stifled a laugh, hiding her smile behind her hand, "Yes, it's edible."

"…Doesn't look it."

"I suppose it may just take a little getting used to." Feldt sounded thoughtful. "I wouldn't know."

Of course she wouldn't if she'd been up here her whole life, another sad fact of lost childhood to add to his all too rapidly growing list of things to fix concerning the girl's life so far, wondering where her parents were but not wanting to ask, maybe not wanting to know. He didn't know when he'd decided this, but sometime between leaving her at the meeting room door and walking into the canteen today he had made it his own personal mission to teach the girl all the little things she'd missed out on under the rule of these people who seemed to think it was a-okay to keep children in a warzone. Maybe it was his irritation at the situation or maybe it was just that he couldn't shake the fact he'd almost called her Amy when she'd come barrelling round the corner after Haro. In a lot of ways he hoped it was the first answer if only because it sounded nicer.

Stabbing his fork into the supposed food he raised a questioning eyebrow when it remained there, upright and unaided, embedded in the block of 'nutrition'. He spoke in a very serious, dead-pan tone, not breaking eye-contact with the girl, "I'll bring up some real food as soon as I have the chance, because I refuse to believe this is fit for human consumption. It shouldn't do that," he pointed to the fork, "unless it's jelly, and even then it doesn't always work."

A moment of silence passed over the table, Feldt's expression caught somewhere between incredulous disbelief and childish glee.

"Really?" she asked, unsure as to whether to believe him or not, before adding almost as an afterthought: "And it _is_ edible."

"Eat up, eat up!" Haro encouraged.

"Yes," Neil replied with a nod, grinning widely. "And fine, if you say so since it's now two against one."

Picking up his fork again he stared for a moment and then laughed as the entire block had lifted from the plate along with it. It may have been edible; it just did a good impression of being otherwise, more like one of Amy's failed kitchen experiments that still managed to occur even under the careful supervision of Aislin or their mother. However, just like those experiments the 'food' they served here tasted better than it looked.

"Told you so," Haro said knowingly, rolling across the table. "Told you so."

* * *

Time was difficult to gauge when no one kept reasonable working hours, the nailed down clock had declared that it was that great hour of stupid-o'clock when all sane people should be in bed and asleep, but he'd heard noise, people moving around not long before. Still, he guessed from the lack of noise now, however, that most people had turned in. At least hopefully they were because this was feeling more and more like sneaking out after hours, but curiosity had got the better of him and he didn't want to just wait around until someone saw fit to tell him where this 'Veda' was. It probably wasn't important, at least not yet, else they'd have told him during the meeting, but it would be nice to know exactly how he could be working for a computer.

So that was how he came to be wandering the halls, map in hand and keeping an ear out for any noise. It was insane and he knew it and the more sensible part of his brain was holding up a large sign saying 'Why?' To be perfectly honest Neil didn't have an answer for that so he just ignored it and kept going, if nothing else then excursions like this would surely mean that he'd learn his way around faster, and another voice in his head muttered something about curiosity and cats. That particular inner voice sounded rather a lot like Lyle and if it hadn't been for the fact he was trying to be as quiet as possible Neil would probably have laughed at the idea of Lyle being his voice of reason. Instead he took another left turn through another set of doors and went down to the next floor.

He would do this exploration in two parts, provisionally at least depending on how long it took him to get lost. He'd cover the lower floors tonight where most of the work rooms seemed to be located and then focus on the upper floors the following night, the dormitories and meeting rooms mostly. There was a lot that had been left out of Ian's hasty tour that morning, many parts covered with a vague wave of the hand and explanation that there were more of the same down this way or that. In particular he was also interested to see the other Gundams and just whose office had been behind those hanger doors. He wanted clues as to everything that was going on that he hadn't been told about, because anyone in Grave's position would be wise to never tell their employees everything, it would be both dangerous and stupid, and Grave did not strike Neil as the stupid type, which meant that there will still things hidden in the hallways of Krung Thep. Things Neil wanted to find regardless of the trouble it might land him in.

The map Eco had given him was well made, if lacking in too many labels, leaving Neil to note them down as he made his way through the various hallways, shorthand scribbles deciding whether or not the information was useful, marking out other likely looking hangers, similar in size to the one which held Dynames, where the other Gundams might have been stored, scattered in no particular pattern across the map. They were linked by fairly direct hallways, but there was still no logic to it. The place in general seemed to have been laid out so as to confuse and confound anyone and everyone who didn't know where they were going. It was no wonder he'd got lost upon arrival and guessed that someone was likely in trouble for it.

Another turn down another hallway, however, left him stumped. According the map there should have been another hallway and some small office-like looking rooms, but either the map was old or something had been missed off because the lack of doors beyond the very large ones right in front of him told a different story, one which said this wasn't a collection of small rooms, but one very big one. Bigger than all four of the Gundam hangers he'd located on the map put together as he stared at the endless walls on either side of him, putting the – clearly right now useless – map away.

"Interesting," he muttered, debating whether or not to check what it was, "Veda perhaps?"

With that idea in mind curiosity won out pretty quickly and he stepped inside.

Then he stopped and whistled, staring at possibly the largest ship he'd ever seen, bigger than the trains or military ships he'd seen on the television.

"Not Veda then, I'm guessing…"

Unfinished, much more so than Dynames, huge chunks missing and work scattered everywhere, things that were being adapted, changed or improved, but it was still recognisable as a ship and an extraordinary one at that. It was almost more of a wonder than the Gundams, if only because he didn't know what exactly it was for, walking round it. He was back to feeling like a child in a sweetshop again, and he wondered what Lyle would make of it, a giant spaceship like this, a more than life-size toy made from real materials and electronics instead of magnets and plastic.

"Lockon Stratos, you should not be here."

Neil froze at the unfamiliar and unfriendly voice, turning slowly and trying to decide very fast if it was worth making a break for the door at the other end of the room. It was not really a feasible plan though so he decided on the ever-faithful Plan B instead: wing it and act.

"Sorry, didn't know it was off limits," he shrugged, scanning the room for signs of the other person.

"It is not, however, as you are clearly not an engineer there is no reason for your presence here."

That made logical sense, but it lacked a certain well known understanding that exploring was fun and didn't need logic, so he chose to ignore the statement and went instead with: "What is it?"

He heard a long-suffering sigh and the already familiar click of boots on metal as a young man walked into view, younger than anyone else he'd seen yet bar Feldt, but much stricter in his features. He reminded Neil of a young version of his old history teacher, an impatient and, at times, downright terrifying individual with high expectations for his class. He'd had a hell of a reputation at school of being like a dinosaur with toothache, but Neil had always got on pretty well in his classes and that gave him a little more confidence now. Of course, his old history teacher hadn't had purple hair, but that didn't matter.

"The Ptolemaios," the young man said, crossing his arms and giving a haughty look that told Neil he should have known that already. "It is the mobile base for Celestial Being's work, but as you can see it is not yet fully functional."

"Ptolemaios…?" Neil glanced back up at the ship, the name sounding vaguely familiar, wracking his brain as to where he'd heard it. "It's Greek."

It was a pattern that he had noticed earlier but thought it more coincidence, now he wasn't so sure, the names of everything around here gravitating towards the Greek and mythological or religious or far off origins. It seemed strange that such an advanced group would have such almost backwards names in comparison. It fit all too well with the insane ideology they spouted.

"Yes, from the Ptolemy of Alexandria."

He hadn't meant it as a question but the young man had answered anyway.

"Oh," he replied, unsure what else to say.

"Was there anything else?"

Neil shook his head, knowing a dismissal when he heard one, "I'll just be on my way then…?"

The young man didn't answer this time, maintaining a level glare that suggested he'd better just shut up and leave now.

He could have sworn he heard muttering before the door shut behind him, something about unfit fools, and laughed, he may not have found any of the other Gundams or the Veda computer, but he had found a ship and been introduced to some sure fire entertainment.

"Ptolemy of Alexandria, huh?" he said, looking back over his shoulder and marking the changed room on his map. "I like it."


	7. 06: It's You That Sets The Test

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Chapter 06: Because It's You That Sets The Test**

"What?" Neil asked, depositing his tray and following Eco out of the canteen doors and down the hall.

"Physical training," the young man replied. "Everyone has to be in top condition to participate in any of the missions, surely you knew that?"

Sure, it made sense, but no, no one had told him, or if they had then the memo had been lost somewhere between the crash course in further mathematics and refresher language test from which he still wasn't sure he had recovered, or passed for that matter given how much the teacher had been frowning. As for the maths, if that particular teacher didn't kill him it would be nothing short of a miracle. Since he didn't have Lyle or Michelle's work to copy from it was becoming very obvious very fast that he wasn't good with numbers, money he could deal with, that was just adding and subtracting various amounts from various accounts, but this was something else entirely, full of numbers and letters and ancient Greek squiggles in bizarre combinations. He'd never had a head for such things; it had been Lyle's specialty, breezing through maths class without a care while Neil felt like bashing his head against a wall.

"When and where is this training session?"

"You should be in training room four on the third floor at nine, and don't be late, the teacher detests lateness."

Neil glanced at his watch – five to – and bit back a curse, "Thanks for the warning."

It was no warning at all really and he was going to be late even if he could run the entire way there, which wasn't possible or sensible but would nevertheless prove a good warm up as he left Eco behind, hoping he hadn't been expected to bring anything with him and that his current attire would suffice. Okay, so jeans weren't the easiest of things to be working out in, but he didn't have time to change and wasn't even sure he had anything that would be suitable anyway.

Eco, he had decided, was nice enough, but given enough slack tended to also be a highly irritating know-it-all, the majority of breakfast having been spent listening him explain how he'd been training as a pilot for months. It wasn't what Ian had said, but then it was obvious it was going to be a task and a half to get the full story from anyone, so collecting various snippets and seeing what fitted was about the only way he could think to tackle the situation, and even that didn't work very well. However, by the sounds of all the talking he'd been doing Eco wasn't all talk and no experience; he did know what he was doing and, right now, was a lot better at his job than Neil, so he could respect him for that.

He apologised quickly to the few people he literally ran into and dodged around the others with varying degrees of success and reprimand, arriving at his destination only a few minutes late and hoping the teacher wasn't as bad as Eco seemed to have implied as he took a breath and opened the door.

"Lockon Stratos, you are late!"

Yes, it was just as bad as Eco said, wincing at the sharp tone of voice, "Sorry, didn't get the memo."

"That is not good enough. If you have time to be sneaking around in the middle of the night then you can certainly find the time to read your messages."

That got his attention, actually taking note of the irate young man stood in the middle of the room, not any older than himself, if not younger even, tapping his foot impatiently, glaring through wireframe glasses, purple hair tied back and away from his face. It was clearly the same guy from other night, the one who told him the name of the ship down in the hanger that didn't exist on the map. Who the hell was he?

"Stop gawking and shut the door; I do not have all day."

Figuring it would be in his best interests not to further incite his teacher's irritation Neil did as told. He'd grown used to the strange variation on gravity that was a part of Krung Thep, knowing it was better in some places than others and knowing roughly where these places where, but it still wasn't as strong as on Earth. That was until now.

He shot the unfazed young man a glare as gravity took hold and nearly tripped him up again, the sudden weight catching him off balance, "You could have warned me that was going to happen!"

"You should have already known had you been paying any attention."

"Okay, I admit, I'm at fault for not having memorised the handbook, there, happy? Now," he continued on not waiting for or expecting an answer and knowing there was no handbook anyway, "what's on today's schedule?"

"A simple aptitude test should suffice for today."

"Sounds fair, what did you want to start with?" Neil asked, shrugging off his jacket, tossing it to the side.

"Once you are done with whatever warm ups you deem fit then we shall spar," he replied, removing his glasses and putting them down neatly on top of what looked to be a folded pink cardigan. "Have you been through the medical yet?"

That was a good point, "No actually."

"Then you should go and see Doctor Moreno after this."

There was a definite note of annoyance in the young man's voice now, one that broke no argument and promised retribution for whoever was to blame for that particular slip up. This seemed like someone who knew what they were talking about, who had been here for a long time, like Feldt perhaps, and he was beginning to wonder if such things weren't the norm, but why? There was keeping secrets and then there was something that was very different, that didn't look or sound at all right. He didn't ask though, guessing such questions would be deemed trivial and unimportant at this moment in time as he stretched muscles that would probably be complaining regardless due to his near sprint across from the canteen, still, it was the thought that counted, right? And, anyway, it couldn't be any worse than the games he, Lyle and Amy used to play, chasing each other in a mad dash around the park, full of seemingly boundless energy, exasperating their mother and father when they still wouldn't be tired by the end of it.

On the other hand it wasn't as if he was either unfit or exactly out of practise, though the methods he was more well acquainted with may not be so suitable; a playground or street brawl being rather different to sparing. At least, judging by this particular teacher's physique, he wasn't expecting the same sort of behaviour he was used to. Though the idea of a fist fight like those they'd got into back in school was rather hilarious and he couldn't help but grin at the mental image it presented.

"Is something funny?"

Neil shook his head, trying not to laugh, "No, nothing."

"Fine, well, if you are ready?"

"Sure, go for it."

In retrospect it perhaps hadn't been the wisest thing to say, but then he hadn't expected quite such an immediate reaction, as if he had missed the teacher say 'ready, steady' and gone straight for the 'go', just without any words at all. Instinct and the simple fact of having a brother, no matter how estranged, was possibly about the only that saved him from getting his nose broken right off the bat, half jumping half stumbling back out of reach, immediately forced onto the defensive.

It was not surprising the purple haired man was fast, but his build belied his strength and it was all too obvious to Neil that he was actually outmatched. However, he wasn't going to just give up, if this was a test then he'd at least have to give as good as he could. Especially since there was no maths involved.

He took note of his opponent's movements, reading them as he would a book, accepting the fact he couldn't retaliate, not yet. He was not convinced that a good defence was the best offence per say but he knew there were times when it was necessary. It was a good way to learn, and fast as well since if one wasn't quick to pick up an opponent's weaknesses then one would probably find themselves very quickly dead instead. So, defence and a sharp eye it was and the first opening he found he'd hit back.

Which was looking like it was going to be harder than anticipated since this guy seemed to be ambidextrous on top of everything else. Clearly this guy wasn't human. That or he had far too much time on his hands. Either way it was not an easy task to find a chink in that offence heavy armour and it seemed his defence was just as good, blocking the few hits Neil did manage to get in.

"Try harder," the teacher demanded, slipping out of reach again.

"Trying, trying," Neil replied, trying to focus on actions instead of words, knowing that one slip in concentration would land him flat on the floor and while that might have put an end to this unwinnable game, dignity and more than a slight touch of stubbornness wouldn't allow for such a defeat. Which might not actually have been a good thing as he was fairly sure the teacher was hitting harder, and while used to accumulating various scrapes and bruises from fights with Lyle or idiots at school in the past, this was actually getting to be quite painful.

Then he stopped, the purple haired man seeming to get bored and give up, walking away, and it took a moment to realise that it meant the lesson was over and he wasn't just taking a break.

"That's it?" Neil asked.

"Yes," the teacher replied.

"And…?"

"And what?"

It seemed an obvious question, but apparently it was one that had to be asked, "Did I pass?"

There was a pause as the teacher picked up his glasses and Neil realised that he didn't even seem to have broken a sweat; there was definitely something odd about him, more so than most people round here that was. Everyone was pretty strange to some extent.

"Your performance was adequate; however there is much work still to be done."

Neil resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, already mentally adding the class to his ever growing list, "Same time same place tomorrow then?"

"No."

That was unexpected, "No?"

"No," he reiterated, "You shall be on time tomorrow; o-six-hundred sharp."

"Six in the morning?"

The other man continued on as if there hadn't been any interruptions, "So as not to interfere with your other studies."

With the number of classes either begun or promised, looming on the horizon, he was beginning to wonder if and when he'd have time to eat or sleep, but he knew better than to voice the thought out loud. If it had been Ian then maybe he would have since the mechanic had a sense of humour, this guy wasn't looking as likely. So, instead he nodded, if these sessions were going to become a regular thing he really ought to have some way to address this guy, "Okay, six am it is then, just one question, what should I call you?"

"My name, Lockon Stratos, is Tieria Erde."

"Well then, Tieria Erde," he replied, sticking his hand out for the other man to shake, "Nice to meet you."

The offer was declined, Tieria walking straight past, "I'm sure, just do not be late tomorrow."

Neil watched the door close behind the strange, purple haired man, not entirely sure what to make of the encounter in general. He'd been getting used to everything being strange here, but Tieria was the strangest part of it yet. He'd have to ask a few questions regarding the young man because something struck him as just too peculiar about it all.

Not right now however, right now he was supposed to be going to find Doctor Moreno, if he hadn't already been roasting by Tieria for being inept at his job that was.

A shower also wouldn't go amiss.

He stared at the door for a moment or two longer, wondering what to do first, but, recalling Tieria's expression, decided he'd best visit the good doctor before anything else.

That decided he grabbed his jacket and headed off in the general direction of what should have been the medical bay at a more leisurely pace than he had on his way over from the canteen.

* * *

For all that Krung Thep was a large place with a lot of staff the medical bay was tiny, manned by only a handful of people who had secondary jobs elsewhere on the station. They must have had a lot of faith in their safety measures to get away with it, either that or it was something else covered by the secrecy policy. It was a funny idea and the distraction of trying to figure out how it would work almost led him to walk straight into the woman exiting the office.

"Sorry," he said quickly, "My bad." Then he looked up and saw who it was, "Chall?"

The woman smiled, amused by something, quite possibly at his expense, "Not awake yet?"

"No, awake but tired, that Tieria is a," he paused for a moment, trying to find a word that best described him without being rude about it, "strict teacher."

Chall laughed, "Yes, but he is good, likely the best pilot we have."

"He's a pilot as well, huh? I guess I can see why." Something in his mind clicked and he groaned inwardly. "And I guess that means I'll be seeing more of him soon."

"Perhaps, either him or Eco, and not immediately."

Neither idea was particularly appealing, but, thus far, of the two he'd take Tieria since, while tiring, at lease he'd have an excuse to hit the guy later.

"Thanks for the warning."

"They're not that bad are they?"

"No," he shook his head, hoping he hadn't inadvertently insulted her, "but they're interesting individuals to work with."

"They may not be the easiest of people to get along with, but they know what they're doing and Eco, his heart's in the right place, he believes in what we're fighting for, he's just a little…"

"…Overenthusiastic?"

"Yes, that's one way to put it," she agreed. "Still, I take it you have business with Doctor Moreno?"

"Yeah, Tieria sent me, so, I've got the right place then?"

"Yes," she said, walking on past him down the hall, "so, I shouldn't keep you then."

He watched until she disappeared round the corner. She had seemed livelier than the last time he had met her, good news perhaps? He didn't know, turning away and walking into the doctor's office.

Asides from the obvious differences where it had to be adapted for all things space related he knew it was a doctor's office; it had the same overly clean feel to it, too much white and antibacterial spray regardless of whether or not they actually used the stuff.

"The newbie finally decides to show his face, huh?"

Neil raised an eyebrow at the comment, clearly meant in jest, "Doctor Moreno?"

The man didn't look much like any doctor he'd ever known back on Earth, even when Liam had been running late he'd never looked this untidy, or, to be fair, this relaxed either, feet on the desk, shirt and tie loosened under the white doctor's coat and twirling an unlit cigarette between his fingers. He was without a doubt the last of his stalkers from the day he'd been recruited by Grave. So there was a well respected mechanic, a doctor, Grave and, he wasn't entirely sure what Hixar's job was yet, but either way it seemed all four had some fair degree of strength within the organisation and that, more than anything else, made him wary. There had been some fairly important people watching him, and it hadn't been only one person but at least four. It also explained who he'd heard Ian talking to when he'd been introduced to Dynames, the rough edge to the doctor's voice coming from years of abusing his lungs with nicotine. It served to mute slightly the hospital-like smell of the place, but mostly it was just distracting.

"Don't like doctors much?" Moreno asked, still with the same tinge of curious humour, staring at Neil over the top of his sunglasses.

"No, I had-" He stopped himself short, remembering at the last moment that he wasn't supposed to speak of his old life on Earth, all personal information classified or nonexistent, so he just shook his head, "No, it's not that." He didn't know if the doctor believed him or not, but it didn't really matter either way. "Tieria sent me so you might want to watch out – he seemed a little put out."

The doctor's face split into a grin and he laughed, "Did wonder about that, not suffering from a concussion?"

"Don't think so."

"Good, now, where's that file?"

He watched as the doctor pushed the chair back from the desk, spinning it to face the computer, the air filled with the quick click-clack of keys. It felt strange stood there just waiting and not to be waiting on anyone else.

"These record are fairly old, are there any possible changes we should be aware of?"

Neil didn't blink at how they might have got hold of his old medical records, but he knew that they were very out of date by normal standards. He shook his head again, "Nope, don't think so."

"No allergies or operations?"

"Wouldn't those have been written down if there were?"

The doctor gave him a look and Neil began to suspect there was more to this guy than met the eye, but he already knew that was the way with everyone around here so he ought to stop being so surprised by it.

"No," he replied, "no allergies or operations or addictions–" Okay, so that wasn't quite true, but he'd quit smoking now. "–Or bionic body parts, does that cover everything?" He smirked, suddenly remembering something he'd heard Michelle complain about more than once or twice when she'd been in for blood test. "Oh, and I'm not pregnant either."

That got a laugh out of the doctor, "I'd hope not, medical science hasn't advanced that far yet." He clicked on something else and a suspiciously blank form appeared on the screen. "However, that doesn't get you off the hook; still have to go through all of this, Celestial Being rules, especially if you want to be allowed to pilot that Gundam of yours."

"Fair enough I suppose."

Which it was and he'd put up with it, but that didn't mean he was happy with it. Despite Moreno's constant quips and conversation about mindless, meaningless matters in an attempt to make the time pass quicker it still felt like it took forever, all the endless tests and questions, some of which he honestly didn't know the answer to and some which seemed just plain redundant. Like the eye test for example, of course he had twenty-twenty vision; he'd be screwed as a sniper otherwise. They also ran enough blood tests to make him wonder if they weren't all just a bunch of vampires, poking his arm full of holes, and he finally had a bit more sympathy for all Michelle had been through and kind of regretted picking fun at her for it so much. Though, he knew she'd do the same if she could see him now.

He was still rubbing his arm and glaring at the offending medical equipment when the doctor asked his next question, "How's the withdrawal?"

Neil's attention snapped back to the doctor in confusion, "What?"

"I've been a smoker most of my life, you think I can't tell?" Moreno shrugged, "Plus, it's still in your system; it showed up on the tests."

"You've got results already?"

"We have the best equipment money can't buy."

Liam would be jealous; it still took at least a couple of hours at the hospital he was at.

"Impressive."

"Yes, but that doesn't answer my question. For the record I need to know because I need to know if it might hinder your performance."

"Well, I survived this morning's session with Tieria."

"But?"

"But given this place there's times I'd kill for a smoke, yes," he admitted grudgingly. "I won't though – I quit."

"When?"

Moreno wasn't writing any of it down on his forms as he had been during the rest of the meeting, maybe he would later, but maybe he'd be lucky and it would stay off-record.

"Couple of weeks back now?"

"And that's working okay?"

"I'm stubborn, so yes."

"That's good, still, if you need any help just ask."

"Shall do," he paused, not sure if he'd get an answer. "What about you?"

Moreno shook his head, smiling, "I have no willpower, and it helps with the stress."

The doctor was honest; he liked that, "Fair enough, anything else?"

"No, you're done."

"And cleared?"

"Yes, of course, otherwise I would have had to have killed you."

Unfortunately Neil wasn't certain that the doctor wasn't being completely honest about that too, so he laughed, "Thanks, I think."

"Just take care; I don't want to see you back here too often for the wrong reasons."

"I'll bear that in mind, but you might be better off telling Tieria than me."

"Good luck."

There really didn't seem to be much point in replying to that, instead smiling and shaking his head, waving as he left the room, realising exactly how late it had become and how long it had been since breakfast, heading towards the canteen and trying to remember if there was anywhere else he was supposed to have been and how many people he'd have to apologise to for having missed their classes.

Everything had become routine if occasionally strange, but he'd just learnt to go with the flow and figure things out later, meeting Feldt frequently at meal times, greeting the robot Haro and having him reply, calling Ian 'old man' and sitting through endless hours of lectures, number work and languages, being frequently presented with more homework than he'd ever seen in his life. He'd grown to expect all of this.

So, walking back into his room at the end of the day he'd expected to pretty much fall into bed and sleep as he had done every day since his arrival. What he hadn't expected was to see the light on his phone blinking, telling him he had a message, and he stared at it in a nonplussed manner for a moment, wondering why he'd left it out in the first place.

Then he swore and leapt across the room, snatching up the phone and playing back the voicemail message that had been left on it, Liam's familiar voice filling the small room with furious words, bringing Neil crashing back down to Earth.

"_You bastard, you promised you'd be here! Where the hell are you? I gave you plenty of time, like you asked me to, so where the hell are you? Why haven't you been returning my calls?"_

He dropped the phone, letting it clatter harmlessly to the floor as Liam's tirade continued on, tired and angry across the hundreds of miles between them, and Neil could see him in his mind's eye, dressed in black, pacing up and down the car park while everyone else gathered solemnly to remember their deceased friend.

Liam had every right to be angry.

He'd broken his promise; he'd missed Aiden's funeral.

But more than that, he'd forgotten it.


	8. 07: Not Hearing Anymore

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Chapter 07: But Not Hearing Anymore, Not Hearing Anymore  
**

He had no free time. Between Tieria's training and all the other classes that he had been signed up for just about every waking hour was accounted for, sometimes more. At least, that's what it felt like. Something which, in turn, meant that the phone with Liam's incriminating voicemail on it remained, turned off, at the bottom of his bag waiting for the day when he could get back down to the surface and, by the looks of it, it wasn't going to be any day soon.

It had been there for nearly two whole months now, guiltily untouched and he knew it, offering up a silent apology before getting ready for another long day. It was impossible to get away and he knew that too. He felt bad about it but there was nothing to be done for it, he was stuck in space learning everything about everything he would need to function as a Gundam Meister for Celestial Being until further notice.

Sometimes he wondered, before falling exhausted into bed, if it would be possible to just jump on a transport and apologise to Grave when he got back. That would not be any good though, it didn't take a genius to know that it would be a very stupid plan. For all he knew it could get him killed, if not by Grave or any of the other higher ups then by Tieria who he was now pretty much certain had swallowed the rule book somewhere along the line. It would not work and it was foolish to even try so all he could do was wait and wait and then, just for good measure, wait some more, working all the while both because he had to and to keep physically and mentally busy to save from going round the twist thinking about everything too much.

He kept up to date with Ian; he gave periodic messages about the state of the Gundam and also a more practical view on the situation of the world below. He wouldn't voice the opinion out loud, but he thought those passing evening conversations with the old mechanic were far more useful that the lectures that were meant to make everything clear. Clear as mud, he'd admitted to Ian once. To which the mechanic had laughed, put down his drink and asked what the mud was, rehashing it in plain English. It was just a pity he couldn't do the same with the mathematics; asking Ian about that had just made his head spin.

Due to the impromptu nature of the updates it wasn't too surprising therefore that Ian should show up during Neil's lunch break, interrupting his conversation with Feldt and Haro about various meaningless matters and classes.

The mechanic was grinning from ear to ear, wiping his hands on his overall. It was a grin that Neil knew could mean only one thing.

"Is Dynames finished, Mister Vashti?" Feldt asked before anyone else had a chance to speak, sounding excited as she looked up hopefully at the older man.

"Someone's enthusiastic today," Ian laughed. "Yes, Feldt, it is."

Her returning smile was one Neil knew well, had used himself a time or two or six in the past. It was one that spoke of a secret, but one that wasn't to be told to anyone, not yet, and had usually actually resulted in chaos as it had often meant plans that had been hatched between himself, Lyle and Amy regarding birthdays, Christmases or other such special occasions. He was never quite sure if their mother had ever managed to salvage that saucepan they'd burnt or had just given up and replaced it to save their feelings.

"Want to see it?" Neil offered before actually thinking about what he was saying, just as amused by the young girl's eagerness as Ian, bright and cheerful in a way that she usually wasn't, not that he'd seen.

"Can I?" she asked, a touch in awe at the idea.

Neil glanced up at Ian, unable to keep from grinning in a similarly childish fashion himself, "Well, can she?"

"Please?" Haro added, just for good measure. "Please?"

"If I didn't know better…" the mechanic muttered, looking slowly round the table at the three of them and Neil could almost see the cogs turning in his brain, deeming them all daft. After a couple of very long moments, however, he sighed and shook his head in defeat, "I don't see why not, it's three against one anyway, I don't rate my chances if I'd said no."

"Exactly, you don't stand a chance, old man."

"Says you, kid."

"Thank you, Mister Vashti!"

Quickly clearing the table of trays and textbooks they followed Ian from the canteen and down the familiar course of hallways towards the hangers, Haro floating by Feldt's shoulder as the girl politely greeted those she recognised while Ian kept up a constant string of conversation and information to which Neil was supposed to be paying attention. Supposed to be but wasn't, far too amused by the fact that nearly everyone they passed not only greeted Feldt with a friendly hello but also her orange robot companion.

"Do you remember the purple monkey dishwasher?" Ian inquired.

"Yeah, sure-" Neil stopped as Ian's words actually registered. "Wait, what?"

The mechanic laughed again, "Pay attention, kid, else Grave'll never even let you near the machine let alone pilot it."

"Sorry," he apologised as another, this time muffled, laugh caught his attention and he turned to Feldt, the girl trying to hide her smile behind her sleeve. "And what are you laughing at?"

"Nothing?" she replied, making it sound more like a question than was probably intended.

He knew she was laughing at the fact Ian had caught him out on his inattention, and he wasn't about to let her get away with it, fixing her with his best impression of his old history teacher, "Nothing, Miss Grace? It doesn't look like 'nothing' to me, does it to you, Mister Vashti?"

Ian shook his head solemnly, willing to play along, "No, it doesn't."

"What should we do about it do you think?"

After a moment's serious consideration Ian replied, "I think she should be tickled for it."

"Oh, ticklish are we?" Neil grinned widely, breaking character. "You probably shouldn't have told me that."

The young girl gave a quiet squeak before dashing past both of them, running down the hall in much the way she had been when Neil had first met her as he sprinted after her, leaving Ian to retrieve the poor Haro they'd sent spinning across the hall in the girl's hurry to escape the imminent tickle attack.

It would have been easy to catch her, but that would have spoilt the game, so he kept just a few paces behind her, following her as she ran down and round without stopping, knowing the base better than anyone else he had met. They'd reach the hanger probably long before Ian unless the old man knew a short cut that Feldt wasn't aware of, something he doubted given the girl's age and his own memories of just how much exploring he and Lyle had done, and Amy too for that matter.

Their more than somewhat mad dash, however, was cut very abruptly short upon arrival at the hanger, crashing through the doors and straight into the waiting Grave Violento.

The young Feldt Grace was fastest to recover, snapping to attention, apologising quickly and smartly while Neil tried to smother his laughter, his own apology sounding far less sincere.

"Full of energy today I see," Grave replied dryly, looking past them to Ian who had walked in just behind them.

Neil stared at the mechanic, wondering how he'd managed it, the older man not even out of breath as he handed Haro back to Feldt, agreeing with the other Celestial Being operative, "Kids these days."

If it weren't for the fact that Grave was rather an important person and Feldt was an innocent little girl then Neil might have had a retort or two for Ian. Instead he held his tongue on the matter, attempting to address the reason he was actually there in the first place: "Ian tells me that Dynames is finished?"

"Yes, and I am here to observe today's session so that we can decide how best to continue your training."

Because that wasn't daunting at all, "Okay, sure thing, sir."

Grave smiled, "I expect a good show given your history."

Feldt gave him a quizzical look and Neil shook his head, "We'll see, I can't promise anything, new system and all."

"Well, it shouldn't be all that hard if you've been paying attention on the way here," Ian said, trying and failing to sound serious, knowing all too well that Neil had been doing no such thing.

"Great," he muttered, smirking despite himself. "This should be a 'good show' then, just not necessarily in the way you're hoping."

By this point the girl had abandoned them, her attention focused solely on the huge green and white machine, standing by the barrier and staring up at it in awe, muttering a variety of things to Haro that no one could hear.

"So, what do you think?" Ian asked, drawing everyone else's attention away from the show prospects – be they good or bad – and to the young girl and her robot.

"There are a few alterations from the original design specs that I can see but it is a vast improvement on the GNY-002 Sadalsuud," she said. "Are the substratospheric firing capabilities online yet?"

"Not quite yet," Ian admitted. "But we're working it and they're not essential to the tests."

"You know a lot about this," Neil noted. More than he did in fact, though how much of it was just stuff he hadn't had the time to read yet he didn't know.

"Of course," Feldt replied, turning her attention from the Gundam to him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, though her smile bore an uncanny resemblance to the one she'd given them in the canteen. "I have to know everything; I am training to become a tactical operator aboard the Ptolemaios, I have to know everything about all of the Gundams we will be carrying."

The announcement that the girl was planning on working for Celestial Being did not come as any great surprise, after all it was her home. That she had already started this training, however, was not only surprising but worrying. Teamed with the namedropping of the ship he'd chanced upon in the depths of the base meant that the look Neil shot Grave was anything but friendly, even as he congratulated Feldt on her career choice, asking if Haro was going to help, the robot's reply a cheerful 'of course'.

Perhaps rather well aware of the situation Feldt's declaration had caused and not too fond of what could become of it, Ian cleared his throat, "Well, let's hop to it. Some of us haven't got all day you know; I still have three other machines that require my attention."

Neil had to give him that point, it was faultlessly logical, and took the less than subtle hint that this was neither the time nor the place for rash actions, "That's true, what do you need me to do?"

"A few quick tests," Grave replied. "Tieria tells us that your reflexes are good in hand-to-hand combat, but we would like to see how you fair with the Dynames. Ian was good enough as to install a short, basic training program this morning that we would like you to run through."

"No tutorial first?"

The answer was flat and final, "No."

It was another challenge then, a test on more than one level – how good are you and how well can you adapt to an unfamiliar system? The idea brought a smile to his face. He liked challenges and this was an impressive one. Not to mention it seemed like a damn good excuse to show off.

"You can do it," Feldt told him, giving a shy smile.

"Yeah, it'll be easy," he agreed with a wink before following Ian, actually listening to the older man this time as he gave a quick and concise run down of the last few instructions as well as a few important ones Neil had missed earlier.

"Good luck, good luck!" Haro's voice echoed after them.

He hoped he wouldn't need luck and that he could get by on skill alone.

"There are probably still a few adjustments needed, aesthetics mostly," Ian continued, leaning on the edge of the open cockpit. "But, what Grave says goes I guess. We'll have it sorted out for you next time."

Compared to some of the cold, damp, abandoned flats he'd hidden out in while on jobs before this was luxury. The machine itself was an amazing feat of engineering and finished to a shine, everything with that look of being new and untouched regardless of all the other tests they must have had to have run on it previously. There were too many parts to it all to know right now what all of them did, but some things were obvious, like the joysticks on either side of the seat, reminiscent of the computer games Lyle used to kick his arse at in the past and the large contraption that swung down from the roof of the cockpit.

It would be tricky, sure, there were far too many buttons for starters, but yeah, this shouldn't be too hard, certainly not for a basic test.

Throwing himself back in the seat, surprised at just how comfortable it was, at least as good as his Lancia, grinning up at the mechanic, "No worries, this'll be a piece of cake, old man."

Ian just laughed, "Good luck, kid."

The metal rang loudly as the hatch closed, momentarily throwing him into complete darkness before the displays lit up, bathing everything in artificial light, numbers and diagrams rolling across the screens faster than he could keep up with. The system set up Ian hadn't had time for before being told to bring Neil down to the hanger, so he let it run, following the few directions he had been given, logging into the right data stream to run the program Grave had requested.

Letting it roll he unhooked the Dynames' main attack system, inspecting it. He'd almost expected it to be made of plastic but the metal was heavy in his hands, reassuringly so, when everything else about it was so different from what he was used to using. For starters there wasn't a shell in sight but also there was something else about it which felt off, more impersonal and clinical. Maybe it was just because he wasn't used to using it, but right now it felt too detached from the reality of what it was supposed to be used for – dealing out death. It really was feeling more and more like an overly expensive computer game and he wanted to laugh but thought better of it, focusing instead on the task at hand, familiarising himself with the weight of the weapon while the training program loaded.

"You ready?" Ian's voice cut through his thoughts, the mechanic's grinning face appearing on the screen to his left, Grave stoic and silent on one side of Ian and Feldt, Haro in her arms, peering cautiously at the screen on the other side, too short to quite see what was going on properly. They made for a peculiar trio, lined up like that.

"Yeah, sure," he laughed back. "I think I've got a vague idea how it all works."

As if for emphasis he flipped open the eyepiece monitor, at last something which looked a damn sight more deadly appearing in his view, the crosshairs lining up against the loaded screen he could see through it.

"Alright, we'll be watching."

From Grave the words might have sounded almost menacing, but from Ian they just sounded like a badly delivered line from a horror flick.

The screen to his left blinked and went blank again, leaving him alone and in silence once more, and then, without any warning, the program started. He guessed it was Grave's doing, the sudden start, but he was ready, locking onto the closest target – a well rendered and very familiar AEU Hellion model – and pulled the trigger.

There was no recoil, and that threw him for a moment. Then he remembered the computer games and it made a lot more sense.

The system was simple, at least on such a basic level of operations as this, so disposing of the enemy suits on the screen was just as quick and easy as he had promised. It was almost too easy. Like lemmings they just seemed to jump straight into his line of fire, one after the other.

He glanced to the sides, but those screens remained completely dead, black, and close enough to touch. In fact, close enough that he could lay his hand flat against it without fully extending his arm.

Damn. That was really close.

And cold too, even through his leather gloves it was very cold and very close.

That realisation suddenly made it just that much more difficult to concentrate on the harmless pixels that were trying to kill him and were now doing a much better job of it, lemmings or otherwise.

He couldn't keep his eyes on the screen, his gaze flicking away from the threat and back to the walls while the machinery buzzed louder in his ears.

He needed a moment to regroup, glancing around at the mass of other controls, there had to be a defence switch around here somewhere, right? Something to activate the shield that would buy him time to breath and to convince himself that the cockpit wasn't as small as it seemed right now and damn it, it was not getting smaller, the walls were not getting closer.

He could touch the ceiling above him too, and that was also cold and metallic, sharp and dangerous.

"Damn it," he muttered, trying to shake the distraction from his mind, purposefully putting both hands back on the weapon system. "Focus, ignore everything else, got it?"

His voice sounded distant even to him; if he was going to start talking to himself he should probably have done so earlier because this just plain wasn't good. Now he just sounded insane and the only reply he received with the hum and creak of metal and machinery that was growing ever louder and ever closer, pressing in on all sides.

The images were beginning to blur on the screen, seeing double, he shook his head again and refocused.

He glanced again to the sides.

They were getting closer, he could swear it.

Somewhere someone was saying something, but he couldn't make out a word of it, the voice muffled and far away, sharp in all the wrong places and whatever he said back was lost to the din of the silence. He didn't even know if he'd said anything at all.

He knew if he could see his hands his knuckles would be white, clenched tight around the metal and he told himself to relax his damn grip, slowly uncurling his fingers, shutting his eyes.

With everything black he had hoped the feeling would just go away. If he couldn't see the walls then they couldn't get any closer, he couldn't give in, not now.

He was wrong.

Unable to see what was around him was worse, dredging up a feeling he thought he'd forgotten or got over, or both preferably.

Unable to see the walls it felt as if they were right there, all around him and closing – falling – in fast and he couldn't stay here a second longer because there wasn't going to be any air left and he was going to be crushed.

His eyes shot open and he dived for what he hoped was the hatch release, not caring if he had to turn the system off first or not or if it would make the whole thing explode if he didn't, he just needed to get the hell out now before anything could get any worse!

The hatch did open, but he knew it hadn't been his doing and didn't care, the hanger lights blinding as a hand grabbed his and Ian's concerned face swum into his vision, "The hell happened, kid?"

"Nothin'," Neil muttered between deep breaths, shaking his head again, wishing his jacket was warmer because right now he was freezing even as he accepted the help from the mechanic getting out of the machine, "Tis nothin'."

"This doesn't look like 'nothin'' to me."

Ian was talking in a strangely hushed and serious tone, and it took a long moment for Neil to figure out why, too intent on taking in the sheer space and freedom of the rest of the hanger. Then it registered as his eyes fell to the waiting Grave and beside him, staring up at them, was Feldt Grace.

Granted, Grave was staring too, but his was a far more calculating look, "Is everything alright up there?"

He knew his mind wasn't working right yet, lacking sense if not oxygen, but he'd heard a phrase once somewhere, possibly from his grandmother when she'd been in one of her more cryptic moods, but she'd said that most people told, on average, four lies everyday and the most common one was, "I'm fine, everything's fine." He gave Feldt his best, most reassuring grin, hoping that his voice wasn't shaking as much as his hands were, "Just couldn't find the shield switch, instant KO and game over. They always said I was no good at multitasking."

It sounded ridiculous even to him and it was obvious from the raised eyebrow that Grave gave him and stifled snigger from Ian that neither of them bought it, however, to Feldt it seemed to be a satisfying answer.

"You need an extra pair of hands," she replied, nodding and clearly offering it up as a serious suggestion.

Gundams though, were not built for more than one person; there simply wasn't enough room, despite the massive size of the machines.

"I will take that idea into consideration," Grave agreed as Neil and Ian stepped once more onto what classed as solid ground in space. "In the meantime I have a few matters I wish to discuss with Mister Stratos."

For once Neil didn't bother to correct him.

"Alright," Ian said, clapping Neil on the shoulder on his way past. "Come on, Feldt, I think Linda should still have a few treats left from last night and I reckon we've earned ourselves a break."

"I'll try and save you some too," Feldt promised, before hurrying after the mechanic with Haro, and Neil guessed that Linda must be a good cook. It was something so ordinary that in itself it felt out of place amongst all the giant war machines as he watched them leave.

The doors had barely shut before Grave started, "What happened up there?"

It was hardly even a question; more a demand for an answer and it had better be a good one because this was serious business.

Somehow he got the feeling that the truth would not be in his favour. Admitting to a mild case of claustrophobia would at best get him kicked off the program since what use was a pilot who was clearly unable to pilot without going totally round the bend and having panic attack. At the worst it would get him killed, he honestly didn't know how ruthless Celestial Being was with ex-organisation members. He also figured that he'd told enough outright lies for one day, surely more than four by now, so an abridged version would be best all round.

"Like I said to Feldt, I couldn't find the shield switch in time. The targeting system takes all my concentration, I can't do both." That much was true, at least this time. Give a hell of a lot of time and practise he could probably become half way decent at juggling the two but it wasn't an easy task by any stretch of the imagination. "And, speaking of Feldt, tactical operator? At her age?"

The change of subject was half diversion but also half in complete honesty. He thought the idea was beyond foolish and into the realms of either suicide or murder depending on which way you looked at it. He'd seen the news reports they'd shown on TV about the wars, pictures of the battlefields, and the idea of a child being there was far from appealing.

Grave hadn't given him a good enough answer last time, not really, but he'd let it slide. This time, however, was different. This wasn't some stronghold base Feldt was going to be working at but a frontline ship and that wasn't right.

"The Ptolemaios will not be fully functional for another couple of years yet; as I am sure you are aware having seen for yourself that the craft is far from finished." Grave paused for emphasis, letting the lingering disapproval set in before continuing. "As for the Dynames' system, there is little that can be done to change it this late on without a dramatic overhaul, and I do not know that we can spare the personnel for such a task. You will have to accept it as it is and adapt."

This conversation had the potential to get very complicated very fast.

"No can do; I don't have two sets of eyes or hands, therefore operating both defence and offence cannot be done, especially under any circumstances that may also require making the machine move. It can't be done." At least he hoped that was right and he wasn't talking complete nonsense. "And that doesn't change the fact that she's a child that you are training to live in the middle of a battlefield or that even in a 'couple of years' she will still be just a child!"

"Feldt is her own person and as such is allowed to make her own decisions, she has proved herself capable of the task and has always wished to work as a fully functional member of the Celestial Being team, her age is of no consequence. As for the system, that is something you will have to take up with Ian because, as I said, it cannot be changed and automation would be far too time consuming and unreliable under the current project restrictions."

"What restrictions? And you expect a child to be 'capable' of making such decisions at that age? Do you really think that anyone could, or should, have to decide to join in such actions as these at such a young age? She doesn't know what the world out there is like."

"The Ptolemaios is not on the battlefield itself, it is the storage facility for the Gundams and-"

Neil finally snapped.

"Bullshit. If ya think such a thing as that then you need ya flamin' head examined, Grave, 'cause I'm tellin' ya that this Ptolemaios of yours is goin' ta be on the frontlines of this here war for just that reason. These Gundams of yours are your main force, are the ones everyone's goin' ta be after, and will stop at nothin' ta get, so this so-called safe ship ya talkin' about ain't goin' to be all that safe, it's goin' ta be a prime target an' sooner or later, regardless of how many gadgets you can fix it up with, someone down there's goin' ta find it an' attack it an' they won't be caring how old the crew is 'cause they're a ruthless bunch of bastards. So do ya really think tha's any place for a little girl ta be?"

If he hadn't been so angry with Grave for allowing Feldt to choose such a career path he might have been irritated with himself for being so unprofessional, but the fact of the matter was, right then, he didn't care. He and Lyle had never let Amy do anything so stupid, never even let her near the knives when they were doing the cooking, so why was Grave, someone Feldt clearly had a lot of respect for and even liked given how she spoke of him, letting her get into something which could cost her so much more than a nicked finger and a few tears?

Grave Violento remained calm as ever, completely unruffled by the outburst, waiting a while after Neil had finished before replying, "That is precisely why, when Feldt asked to join the Celestial Being team, Chall Acustica sought approval from Veda for her joining the crew of the Ptolemaios where she would be under the protection of the best pilots, engineers and technicians that this organisation has to offer. Feldt herself only found out this morning during her first class on the course."

Neil stared at the older man, unable to believe his ears and unsure what to do with the information, "_Chall_ recommended it?"

"Yes, she did." Grave might have smiled, but it was hard to tell as he turned and walked away. "So you had best not let her faith in your abilities as a pilot go to waste, she expects you to be aboard the Ptolemaios when it leaves and to be in full control of your Gundam."

The door shut again, leaving Neil alone in the large hanger with the Gundam, his Gundam, and he looked back up at it. Normally he was fine, but the buzzing silence of it had got to him, the silence and the stress and he wasn't really sure why. He was fine with the small rooms that served as living quarters, fine with the linear trains on the way up, and fine with the shuttle craft. It didn't make sense and it wasn't something he wanted to think about, nor was it something he particularly wished to discuss with Ian but he knew he'd have to if he wanted to get it sorted out.

Shaking his head he sighed and left the room, wondering if it was possible to even turn the lights off on his way out.


	9. 08: I Close My Eyes

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Chapter 08: I Close My Eyes And Tighten Up My Brain**

He was trapped, terrified and there with another person's blood on his hands.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to be the one to protect everyone else. He was the eldest. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She wasn't the one who should have been the shield, running and laughing, and then slamming them both to ground, screams of pain that he could hear from every direction even as the fire and rubble rained down.

He'd tried to call out for help, screamed himself horse but only received a mouthful of dust for his troubles as he tried so damn hard to help her. He couldn't though, couldn't help, he didn't know what was wrong or how to fix it or why she wasn't crying. There was so much blood, blood and dust and tears and he didn't know which was his and which was hers but she was hurt so bad in the blast.

There was no room to move or to breathe, everything stale and suffocating, sharp metal and brickwork and he was cold, shaking while she stayed so still, so seemingly asleep, he couldn't see clearly enough to tell. She'd just passed out, right? Soon, Ma and Da, they'd come looking, right? And Lyle, he had to be safe, he'd know if he wasn't, right? Everything would be alright.

He shut his own eyes, scrunched them up tight and tried not to think, tried not to pay any attention to the images that flickered through his mind as his head spun. It was cold and he was tired, so tired, and the metal was creaking, crumbling, pushing down and he didn't have the strength to move it away.

There was no getting out, he was trapped, buried alive.

He'd tried to wake her but he couldn't speak, choking instead, aching all over.

He wanted to wake up now, wanted this all to be some dream, some stupid nightmare Lyle would tease him for and Amy would get confused over, that his mother would make better and his father would laugh about and tell him it would - could never - never happen.

He opened his eyes again and everything felt just that much closer, the broken walls pressing in, all cold and metal and he was going to go crazy. They'd just gone out to buy a new summer dress; Ma was getting so fed up of fixing Amy's current one.

All he could hear was his own erratic heartbeat.

And Lyle's hand grabbed his, and in that light he saw that his sister wasn't sleeping, her eyes staring back at him, glazed over and filled with pain: dead.

He wouldn't scream, wouldn't cry, wouldn't scream, wouldn't-

His eyes snapped open.

He wouldn't scream. He wouldn't cry. He'd just stare at the ceiling and try to regain control over his breathing and stop the shaking. He'd remember where he was and it wasn't in the ruins of a shopping centre five years ago. He was in space, in his room and a long way from home.

He hated nights like this, the darkness so complete, the ones where it closed in and he could still hear the shrieks of those who were still alive and in pain who'd been rescued already, and he could see Amy, a broken mess, and he was the only thing between her and his brother and he couldn't let Lyle see, he just couldn't, lashing out hard and fast with words he didn't mean but refused to take back and that look in Lyle's eyes, fear, hurt, hatred as he turned and ran away, never to come back and he'd done that, he'd-

"Shut up," he muttered into the darkness through clenched teeth. He wasn't fourteen and in Ireland, he was nineteen-going-on-twenty and in space, a world away. "Just shut up!"

Yet his voice was shaking nearly as much as his hands, fingers digging into the thin blanket that wasn't doing a very good job of keeping him warm right now. The irrational part of his mind wished he had one of his grandmother's old blankets, the thick, brightly coloured things he and Lyle had laughed at but wound up using anyway on cold, winter nights, wrapped up with Amy between them, listening to their grandfather's stories much to their parent's amusement. Their mother would pick Amy up, the young girl still half asleep, and he'd poke Lyle, who'd poke him back with more force and a mumbled comment no one else could hear much less understand, and they'd say their good nights and stumble to bed and the house would be warm and safe and didn't have dead eyes staring out of the darkness or pain or blood or-

"_Shut up!"_

Something in the darkness clicked and whirred, and then two red lights blinked into existence, "Lockon okay? Lockon okay?"

He could have laughed, did in fact, just as shakily as he raked a hand through his hair. He'd woken Haro up with his yelling, and not for the first time he wondered if the little robot wasn't a lot more sentient than people gave it – him – credit for.

Then again the same could have been said for the little girl who had loaned him her friend, such a strange child, her eyes serious, even wise as she told him to take care of Haro and Haro would take of him because he looked like he needed a friend. Then she'd said good night and walked away.

"I'm fine," he replied quietly, reaching out to pat the small robot, the smooth metal real and cool under his fingers. "It was just a bad dream."

Haro twitched back and forth, flapping his ears, seemingly unconvinced by the words, still concerned, or maybe just confused. Did robots dream?

He didn't know what time it was, but it was probably some stupid hour of the morning at which no sane person should be awake, which probably explained why he was since he was far from sane right now. It didn't matter though; he wasn't getting back to sleep any time soon. It was too dark and too closed in, the memory too fresh and clear and he didn't want to shut his eyes again, knowing what he'd see if he did. It was only Haro's presence, the poor, confused little robot, and the prospect of anyone knocking at the door asking what was wrong that was keeping him from slipping back into that strange state of complete blind panic like he had back in the cockpit.

He thought about turning the light on, but decided against it; for some reason it was almost better only having Haro's eyes blinking in the darkness, a reminder that someone was there, someone who wasn't dead. Still, he dropped his hand to the table, reaching for his gloves, the leather comfortable, warm and familiar as he pulled them on and slipped out from under the cover.

"Going out?" Haro asked, his curious gaze following Neil as he crossed the room silently, picking up his jacket from where he'd discarded it in a heap when he got in. "Going out?"

"Just goin' to get a drink," he replied, trying to sound confident, patting the robot once more. "I'll be back soon, so go back to sleep."

It was a strange thing to say to a robot, but it seemed important to reassure him; Haro was something of a friend to him too having spoken to the little robot every time he'd spoken to Feldt.

Offering one last smile he opened the door and stepped out into the chilly, brightly lit hallway, stopping and blinking a time or two against the light, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the change. It was a breath of fresh air; glaringly bright and spacious, completely devoid of all other life at this time of night, but still normal, other doors at periodic intervals in both directions. He wondered if boarding school had been anything like this for Lyle, minus, of course, the being in space part.

He stood there for a moment, a fleeting thought crossing his mind of just sleeping in the hallway like they'd sometimes done as children, a heap of blankets that their father had tripped over more than once, berating them even as their mother stood in the doorway laughing at him. However, just like then, such an idea wasn't particularly sensible, nor was it really very sane under the circumstances, so he discarded the it and began walking the familiar path towards the canteen.

It was peculiar to see the halls of the usually bustling Krung Thep so empty and quiet. He'd grown so used to keeping normal hours that he'd forgotten how different it felt so late at night, sharper and more precise, clean, crisp metal and whitewashed walls. In many ways it simply felt less human, but then, that was the appeal of it.

He hadn't honestly expected to be the only person awake, there was always work that needed doing in a place like this, and people foolish enough to stay up all night to get it done, so he'd expected to see one or two people in the canteen on a break, half dead and in search of caffeine. What he hadn't expected, however, was to find a young boy, dressed all in black, staring into a polystyrene cup as it held the answers to the universe. He looked lost.

Even before he'd consciously made a decision he'd grabbed two cups of coffee and crossed the room, placing one cup in front of the boy, "Looked like you needed a refill."

The boy jumped, looking up at him and stuttering an apology which Neil waved off, taking a seat opposite him and offering a friendly, easy smile, like the one he'd given Haro, trying to be confident and reassuring to put others at ease. It was a damn sight easier to deal with other people's problems than to deal with his own.

"Are you alright?" Neil asked, keeping his tone light. "It is, what…" he glanced up at the clock on the wall, permanently set to Greenwich Mean Time, and a voice in his head laughed, "three in the morning in London."

The boy – he really had to find out the kid's name, couldn't keep just thinking of him as 'boy' – smiled, quietly and shyly, reminding him a lot of Feldt, "I just couldn't sleep."

"That makes two of us then," he paused, eyeing the drinks he'd brought over, and then added, "Though perhaps in that case hot chocolate would've been a better choice than coffee."

That comment actually got him a small laugh as he smiled and studied the boy over the rim of his cup. He couldn't have been much older than thirteen or fourteen, older than Feldt by far but still far too young to be looking for answers at three in the morning in the bottom of a drink, even if it wasn't alcoholic. His dark hair was scruffy, falling over one eye, and, from what little he could see when boy moved his head, his eyes were different colours. Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but he noted it and filed it away in the back of his mind.

He held out a hand, "I'm Lockon Stratos by the way, pilot in training."

He was getting used to the new name, purposefully missing out what he was in training to pilot. Partly because he wasn't even sure any more if he'd be allowed; he hadn't had the time to actually sit down and talk to Ian about it.

"Allelujah," the boy replied, shaking his hand. He had a strong grip for someone so young and Neil was growing ever surer there was a story behind it, and not necessarily one he'd like. "Allelujah Haptism."

"Interesting name you have there."

"You too."

For a moment there was something a little different about the boy, the light catching his hidden eye and his grip tightened.

Neil just smiled, "Thanks."

Then it was gone, letting go and picking up his coffee again.

This place really was beyond strange sometimes, but he'd learnt to accept it, "So, why couldn't you sleep, Allelujah?"

Shaking his head the boy replied, "Just bad dreams."

"Ah," It was easy to read between the lines, the shake of the head saying 'I can't tell you', and Neil's smile became more sympathetic. "I know how that goes, it's not fun."

"Thank you."

"It's okay though," he lied. "It gets better over time."

"Really?" Allelujah sounded honestly hopefully, curious, pausing with the coffee half way to his lips, a childlike innocence in his visible, grey eye, unwavering as he waited for an answer.

"Yes, it does. The dreams fade with time and it does get better, there's hope, so," he grinned, "there'll be no more need for coffee and the company of strangers as stupid times of the morning."

Allelujah smiled back, "We're not strangers anymore though; we know each other's names."

The idea was almost a foreign one given that here everyone was a stranger really, there were no real names, just codes and invisible histories, nothing could exactly be said to be true. He didn't even know if Feldt's name was a code or if her parent's just had a strange sense of humour. Yet this young boy was reaching out, trying to find something to hold onto, and there was something all too familiar about the look in his eyes. Lyle had looked the same when Neil had screamed at him that day, surrounded by rubble and the dead. Allelujah looked scared and alone.

"I supposed we do."

His coffee cup was empty and the few other people that had been in the room had moved on, really it was getting close to the point where there wouldn't be any point going back to bed even if he couldn't sleep, and here…

"Say, if you're staying here and haven't crashed somewhere, do you want to meet for lunch?"

The boy's face lit up and he looked suddenly much younger, dropping a little of the darkness that had haunted his eyes, the remnants of whatever nightmare had brought him to the canteen in the first place. It brought a real smile to Neil's own face, this was something he knew how to do, playing big brother and making sure someone was alright, safe and happy.

"Yes, I think I'd like that, should I meet you here?"

"Probably best, I've work which needs doing in the morning otherwise I'd have suggested breakfast." In all honesty he would have preferred breakfast with Allelujah than the training session and lessons which were actually awaiting his attention, not to mention waiting for a decision on his antics earlier. Yes, right now breakfast with a friendly face sounded a lot better than any of those options.

"That's okay, I understand how it is." The boy stood up, picking up his two empty cups. "And, thank you."

Neil waved off the gratitude, "No worries, just try to get some sleep, and don't forget about breakfast – it's still the most important meal of the day!"

For a moment he talking to Lyle, reprimanding his twin on behalf of their mother, trying to convince him that he did need to get up and eat something before they left for school.

Of course, Lyle had always just throw a pillow at him and told him in no uncertain terms to go away.

"I shall," Allelujah replied, waving and walking away. "See you later."

He watched the young boy leave, depositing the cups in the rubbish and disappearing out of the doors. He was getting used to seeing younger people around the base, those like Feldt who had grown up here, but this kid seemed different. He was more…skittish was perhaps the best word, like he was trying just a little too hard to be normal.

The polystyrene cup was crumpled and dropped in the rubbish, one last look at the time telling him he'd been here too long and tried to think of the right words to apologise to Haro.

Really he didn't have the time for thinking anymore, flipping the light on as he stepped back into his room.

"Lockon is late," the small voice chirped, almost accusingly from the table. "Lockon is late."

"Sorry," he smiled, patting the robot and grabbing his clothes for the day, figuring he might as well go straight to the training room. At least he'd be early for once; Tieria couldn't fault him for that. Though he had to admit he wouldn't have been surprised if the guy was already there, waiting. "I got talking someone, you'll meet him soon; we're getting together for lunch."

"A new friend? A new friend?"

He paused, fixing Haro with a curious look of his own, "Yeah, maybe."

Then he dropped his jacket over the robot because it just didn't feel right getting changed with him watching.

* * *

He was running late when the call came having stopped by to drop Haro off with Ian between the end of a brutal training session with Tieria and the beginning of his first morning class. It wasn't completely unexpected, but the fact that he'd been called to see Hixar and not Grave was a little odd. He guessed the older man was just busy or didn't want to see him and so had enlisted the blond to do his work for him, giving out whatever orders needed issuing.

The differences between the two had only grown more obvious over the months since his arrival, Hixar maintaining a permanently relaxed disposition while Grave was all business, though Neil suspected some of the retorts directed at his comrade were nothing but jest. They reminded him of siblings, Hixar seeking attention from his older brother in any way possible.

The analogy made a lot of sense as he had waited to be admitted to Hixar's 'office', a room borrowed for the day from some unsuspecting and absent co-worker. It also kept him from thinking too much about what the meeting could be about.

"How's it going?" the blond greeted him, gesturing for him to take a seat, "Everything okay?"

"Everything is well," Neil replied with a smile, choosing to mention neither the incident with Dynames which the other man would probably already know of or meeting Allelujah which didn't really seem important in the grand scheme of things, so there was no need for Neil to tell him about either event.

"That's good to hear."

"So, what did you need to see me for?"

Hixar gave an overdramatic sigh, leaning back in his borrowed chair, "Everyone's always straight to point these days, straight down to business, why doesn't anyone have time for small talk anymore?"

"I would, but Grave runs a tight schedule. I don't even have time for a game of cards anymore, let alone a friendly midmorning chat."

"Poker?" he asked with a rather more hopeful note to his voice.

"No, snap," Neil replied, amused as he watched the confusion cross his superior's face before he explained himself. "I told Feldt I'd play a hand or two with her when I had the chance, and that was a fortnight ago. Bit hard to play while eating."

"Ah, well, I'm afraid you'll have to delay that game even longer – you're being sent down to the surface."

His first thought was that he was being kicked out, but Hixar had only said the game should be delayed, not cancelled. His second thought, therefore, was of the phone sitting back in his room and the voicemail message it still contained, "Where?"

"America."

"Oh?" he hoped he didn't sound too disappointed.

"A little place just outside one of the Union bases; you'll be meeting one of our new acquaintances there."

Pushing aside the fact he wouldn't be going home he focused on the matter at hand, this was business after all, "Who?"

"An interesting character with a lot of money and power, we need to find out exactly what she wants." Hixar pulled out a data stick from his pocket, handing it over, "Everything you need to know is on there, read it carefully and don't leave it anywhere."

It sounded like he was speaking from experience, "I'll remember that."

"You'd better," he grinned, making a show of looking at the time.

"When do I leave?" Neil asked, taking the not-so-subtle hint, more than slightly worried what the answer would be given the other man's smile.

"Your shuttle leaves in half an hour; don't be late."

Neil swore, and then he remembered his agreement to meet Allelujah and the fact that Feldt and Haro too would be expecting him.

"There's a new kid around, Allelujah," he said hurriedly, knowing he wouldn't have time to find and tell anyone else. "I said I'd meet him for lunch, can you tell him I'm sorry but something came up and I'll make it up to him when I get back?"

"Sure thing," Hixar was laughing, "Now, don't you have somewhere to be?"

"I will get you back for this, I swear," Neil added before running from the room, Hixar's laughter following him all the way down the hall.


	10. 09: My Friends Talk Of Glory

_Disclaimer:_ Don't own it. Never have, never will, just borrowing the characters.

**Chapter 08: My Friends Talk Of Glory  
**

It was an uneventful and peaceful trip back down to the surface, and he'd watched on in amusement at how well Celestial Being's fake passports worked. He'd known a few people who would have gladly killed for such a foolproof piece of ingenuity as he tucked it safely back into his bag. He had no clue to the exact workings of it though, so there was no chance of anyone else getting their hands on it or the knowledge of how it came into being.

Shaking the thought from his head he thanked the stewardess and headed out into the first real sunlight he'd seen in too long.

He hadn't realised quite how much he'd missed Earth before stepping out onto the busy street. There were people everywhere, hailing taxis, greeting friends and relatives who'd come to visit, or just going about their daily lives. He hadn't realised exactly how used to life in space with Celestial Being he was until he found he was surprised by the sight of normal, everyday life before him now.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself, shaking his head again and laughing as he walked to the taxi bay. "What'd ya expect?"

He was staying somewhere just outside the city, a cluster of hotels, and meeting the new contact at one of the others. It was something he had to admit looked as if it could be interesting – a Chinese heiress with an eye for revolution. The money she was offering would be vastly appreciated according to the file he'd been given, which brought to mind two questions. One, how much exactly was she offering and two, what were Celestial Being's finances looking like? He didn't expect an answer to the first, but he was hoping to read between the lines and gain some idea of an answer to the second. Usually he wouldn't care, but since this job was going to be a more long-term commitment he wanted to know he was always going to get his paycheque on time.

To be honest he still wasn't sure why they'd sent the new guy on a scouting mission; surely it made more sense to send someone who knew the situation inside and out and was more comfortable with it. The only reason he could think of was that because he wasn't sure of it all he'd be more cautious.

This, he decided as the taxi driver pulled up, was going to be an entertaining meeting if that was the case.

Paying the man and collecting his bag Neil was already certain that this was the most posh looking place he'd ever stayed at. And that he would look completely out of place no matter what he wore. So, jeans and t-shirt it was.

It was also made very clear very quickly that the place may be huge and expensive but he was going to be driven mad by the fact there was absolutely nothing to do.

Staring round the all too neatly pressed room he made another very quick decision: There was no way he was staying in here any longer than necessary and if that meant turning up to the meeting in clothes which were not only far too casual but also muddy then so be it.

It was time to revert to being ten years old and explore the place.

* * *

Granted there wasn't much to explore, a lot of wide open space with very little real greenery asides from the strategically plotted 'gardens' which couldn't – in his opinion – have been less garden like if they tried. For starters there was no grass in them, just a few artfully arranged flowers and a tree or two.

Somewhere off to the north of the complex there was a Union base, but it wasn't visible and they were clearly having a day off as he couldn't even spot any of the signature Flags which would have usually dominated the skyline in perfect formation.

All in all by the time Neil was thinking about trudging back inside to find the restaurant at which he was supposed to be meeting the Chinese heiress he was contemplating ways to kill Hixar because he was pretty certain now that the only reason the older man had delegated the mission was just this: It was mind numbingly boring.

The look he was given by the doorman might just have made it worth it though, the shock and confusion when he asked for directions in his best fake accent was priceless. He almost wished he had a camera, only problem was he didn't know of anyone yet who would find it as funny as he did. Grave would be disapproving, Feldt was far too young to understand, possibly Ian would be amused, but it wouldn't be anywhere near as funny to them as it would have been to Lyle. Maybe not now, but a few years back at least it would have, they'd always had fun taking the mick and confusing store managers in the more swanky part of the shopping centre by putting on accents and hiding just out of sight.

Either way, the waiter at the reservations desk gave him an equally curious and disbelieving look as he stepped inside.

"Excuse me, sir, but-" the waiter began.

Neil smiled, he'd been expecting a reprimand after the doorman's reaction, and figured he'd use it to his benefit, cutting off the waiter as he asked smoothly: "Is Ms Wang Liu Mei here yet?"

There was a pause and a flicker of recognition at the name even before the waiter looked down at his book, "No, sir, she has not arrived."

"Thank you." Neil turned and walked purposefully further inside, and this time the waiter didn't stop him. "Let her know that I'm waiting when she does."

He had no real clue what table he was supposed to be sitting at or even if there was an official reservation. So, he picked an empty table at random and tried to look as if he was meant to be there. There was no doubt left in his mind though that if there wasn't a reservation before then there was one now; the name Wang Liu Mei was well known, which told him that her family had influence, more so perhaps than had been implied in the file.

Watching the way a second waiter skirted round the edge of the table and offered him a complimentary drink without checking for ID he was tempted to add 'feared' to his list; no one wanted to offend or invoke the disapproval of someone who was meeting the heiress, even someone in such a state as him.

He didn't touch the drink. He'd never been one for wine and didn't want to choke himself to death on it now, because really it would just be bad form to leave Celestial Being down one trainee pilot. There was also the added bonus of having all his wits about him that probably wouldn't go amiss.

He watched as people filtered in and out of the room, most pristinely presented in pressed suits and cocktail dresses dripping with jewels, but there were a few like himself in casual clothing. They were the ones who headed straight for the bar. There was a very clear division in the room, almost like the school dances where it was boys on one side and girls on the other only the division this time was more likely to do with class than anything else.

"Military drones, they often end up here after briefings."

The voice took him by surprise, young and high as he turned to look at the girl he was supposed to be meeting. He'd read her file, he had known she was going to be young, but it was still off putting to hear such a voice laced with such a condescending edge.

"Evening Liu Mei," he replied, pointedly ignoring her statement. "I took the liberty of picking a table; I hope it's to your liking."

The girl laughed and allowed the man – boy even really, he didn't look any older than himself or Lyle – who was accompanying her to pull her chair back for her. This boy had to be the man-servant about whom there was next to no information available on file beyond his name – Hong Long – and his status. It already seemed as though Liu Mei though little of Hong Long as a person and Neil couldn't help but think there was something about the whole thing would have made his mother throw a fit, something he decided to keep in mind as the meeting progressed. His Ma had always been a good judge of character.

"Let us get straight down to business shall we?" Liu Mei continued, snapping Neil's attention back to the present time and place. "I am offering significant financial support to help fund your endeavour."

The reply he was expected to give was obvious, so, for the moment, he would play by the script.

"And what is it you want in return for this aid?"

Liu Mei did not miss a beat, "Front row seats to the revolution and the birth of a new world."

He had to hand it to her; she was both gutsy and clever. Her actual words were dangerous, especially given the rather rich and important looking military clientele enjoying fine wine and steak a few tables over, but the way she delivered the line was as if she had been enquiring about the weather or health of a relative. She was young but she was well on her way to either becoming a master of her art or a psychotic lunatic. He severally hoped it would be the former because this Wang Liu Mei would make for a formidable opponent given a few more years.

Neil decided it was time to drop the script. Drop it, set fire to it and then scatter the ashes the four winds.

He grinned, "Sure, why not? Welcome aboard."

The quick and friendly surrender was rewarded with an expression of astonishment, even if it was equally quickly erased and replaced with a calm – albeit smug – mask.

Good, she was still just a kid happy to be getting her own way, etiquette be damned.

The young man beside her, however, remained completely stoic. Either he was better trained or just didn't care. Both ideas were noteworthy and would warrant further research. That would have to come later though, not now.

"That is most kind of you."

"Think nothing of it."

"So, to whom am I speaking now, Mr…?"

The formality was duly noted; she must have already known who he was, else how would she have known where to sit?

"Stratos," he replied. "Lockon Stratos."

The temptation to have said 'Bond' instead had been a strong one, but he got the feeling the joke would have been lost on her and he found himself wishing Liam had been here, he'd have got it.

"Well, Mr Stratos, am I to assume that you will be the point of contact?"

The short answer was no, not likely, but he wasn't willing to give away that he was still new to the organisation just yet, trying to remember any other names which could be useful. He didn't want to suggest anyone up in space, so that only left the other contributors down here on the surface. One name in particular sprung to mind as a fitting test to this girl's commitment. And also, he realised, that of Hong Long.

"No," he shook his head and smiled. "For now at least you will be in contact with another Observer, a man by the name of Alejandro Corner."

Neil paused for a moment, watching as the name sunk in; Alejandro was quite the big shot on the political scene right now, not to mention the stories the paparazzi were coming up with regarding the man's personal life.

Hong Long spoke up for the first time, his voice soft and quiet, "Are you sure this is wise, Mistress?"

Of course it wasn't. If any of the gossip rags got wind of this alliance right now then it would drag her family name through the mud, and Corner's too if he were seen so frequently in the company of a minor. Hong Long understood that, and was concerned about it, and that earned him points in Neil's book. At least one of them had some common sense.

Liu Mei meanwhile had turned her attentions to the servant who had not only spoken out of turn but also cautioned her, questioned her actions.

"Of course it is, Hong Long," she snapped. "There are ways to meet without being seen."

At least she was aware of the danger, aware and still willing to take that chance.

Picking up a napkin Neil asked for a pen, which Hong Long provided after a sharp look from his charge, and scribbled down a phone number, wondering why the place had to have fabric napkins instead of paper ones, it was such a waste. "This is the direct number, the one which isn't monitored, and," he glanced briefly across at Hong Long, "give it a month or two, maybe less, and Veda will have a more thorough idea how we can best benefit each other and circumstances shall change accordingly."

The nod from Hong Long was barely perceptible, but it was there, and that was a relief.

"Thank you," Liu Mei said, folding the napkin and handing it to Hong Long before rising to leave, knowing there was no need to continue the conversation. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr Stratos."

"You too, Liu Mei," Neil replied knowing that neither of them had to know right now that the number he had given was actually the one Hixar had provided him with and whoever would be picking up the phone at the other end of it wouldn't be Alejandro Corner.

He smiled as he watched them leave, waiting until they had disappeared from sight out the door before breathing a sigh of relief and letting the smile slip away. He'd already decided what his report to Grave – or Hixar, or whoever else it ended up being – would be, that he had agreed to her offer for the simple old reason of keeping friends close and enemies closer since Liu Mei could easily turn out to be either.

* * *

Consequently though the meeting had ended up being far shorter than it might have been and he still had an entire evening to kill with nothing to actually do except think over questions he'd rather not. Which might have explained why he headed for the bar, even if he did only order water; there was no point in being too drunk to remember the meeting, that would somewhat defeat the whole point of the trip. Though there were certain old friends who would have been sure to find such a thing a waste of a good trip to the pub. It was entertaining to imagine their reactions this place, not quite a pub really, far from in fact.

So distracted was he by his own wandering thoughts that for the second time that day he missed the sound of someone walking over and taking a seat beside him until they spoke up.

"A hard enough day that you've ended up here, but only drinking water? You must be new to the place."

Neil laughed without quite meaning it, looking up from his glass, "Just passing through."

"Still new round here though, so I at least get half marks. As for the other half, it could still have been a hard day?"

The guy was not drunk, at least not yet, though by the looks of it he was well on his way given the slightly too bright eyes and slightly too lopsided grin. The almost empty glass also added to that impression.

Neil just raised an eyebrow and want back to his water, not planning on rising to the bait. Lyle had always been far better at come backs anyway. Yet somehow he still ended up replying, "Maybe, depends if you count waiting for the sky to fall as hard work."

Maybe he should have cut his losses after the meeting and just got an early night, but something rebelled against the idea.

The half-drunk blond looked thoughtful for a moment, and Neil watched him carefully out the corner of his eye, before declaring in a most serious tone: "Yes, most defiantly hard work."

While it may not have been 'hard work' as such to Neil he could believe it would be hard work for this other man; he was a fidget, constantly spinning the mostly empty glass round in his hands.

"Waiting for clearance always feels like it takes forever," the guy continued. "When you just want to get out there and fly. See, that's what I joined up for, the flying and…"

The young man trailed off, frowning at his glass and mumbling something completely incomprehensible as he finished the contents.

Needless, it meant Neil now had an idea of who he was dealing with – a pilot, probably from the base down the road–

"Honour!"

If he had been any less well trained and any less used to dealing with drunken lunatics and Neil would have jumped ten feet in the air at the loud and vehement statement. Instead he replied calmly, "Oh?"

"Yes, it is an honour, do you not think? Flying for your country, you look like you would be good at it."

Those words might have made him laugh once, but not now, remembering history class and a similar phrase that was nothing but lies.

"Not really my thing."

"That why you're only passing through?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

There was another long moment of silence, the bright green eyes of the half-drunk stranger studying him closely, and Neil wondered if the guy was actually drunk at all, his sharp gaze all too sober.

Then the stranger laughed again and all creeping suspicions were instantly squashed.

"You're quite the mysterious one aren't you, stranger? Do you have a name, or should I just call you mysterious stranger all night?"

"Patrick," Neil replied, thankful for the alias no matter how cheesy it might have sounded to him. "Patrick Smith."

"I know a Patrick," the stranger said before Neil had a chance to ask him to return the favour. "Well, know of him; noisy brat who flies an Enact. He's all talk and no style, nothing like our Flags."

Either he had forgotten to add 'pilot' to the end of his sentence or this stranger had just got even stranger, and Neil tried not to laugh, either way, Ian would be pleased to know that their opponents were still all self-righteous idiots.

"What about you, which do you prefer, Enact or Flag?"

"Neither, I prefer to keep my feet on the ground."

Neil ignored the offended look on the other man's face; it was true really, regardless of the Gundams. He preferred his old Lancia hands down over all of them.

A sudden sourness crossed the face of the blond as he asked out of the blue: "You're not a journalist, are you?"

That did make him laugh, "No, I don't particularly like them very much either. They lie, so why would I work for them?"

Visibly relaxing again the blond smiled and Neil wondered why he thought he might be stalked by journalist in a rich bar, "Good, I'd hate for such pleasant evening to be ruined by work."

Part of his mind questioned once again why he was still sitting here, but really there was just something so amusing and so normal about the whole thing that he couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. In a slightly twisted way he was reminded of the old games they had played back home with Liam and the others on Saturday nights at the expense of drunken fools. But, there were different rules for different places he supposed; it was just the people that stayed the same, with that same look in their eye that suggested different games. This blond certainly seemed to fit the bill.

There was another long pause as the blond glanced at his empty glass and beckoned the barman to bring him another, playing with the placemat while he waited, turning it on its side and attempting to spin it as he would a coin, showing off. It didn't work and he was quick to return to his random and unrelated string questions, leaning on the bar and grinning.

"So, Patrick Smith-not-Colasour of the AEU who is just passing through… What is your star sign?"

He was clearly getting stranger by the drink and if this was only half-drunk Neil hated to see what he was like either sober or completely drunk, but he filed away the name 'Colasour' for later.

"I can't say I know."

The blond seemed slightly indignant about this, "How can you not know?"

"I've just never paid much attention to such things."

Clearly this was unacceptable.

"When is your birthday?"

Clearly he also was not about to let up on the subject, so Neil replied: "Early March."

A smirk, one which could have meant any number of things in any number of contexts, "As a proud Virgo I accept that challenge, Pisces. May I buy you a drink?"

"Tempting, but no, I'd best not."

"But, beau-"

Whatever the blond had been about to declare was cut off by a hand on his shoulder and a long suffering sign, "I think you've had enough for tonight."

"But, Billy, I was just-"

Billy shifted his eyes from his half-drunk friend to Neil, "Please excuse him; it's been a hard day."

Neil shook his head and smiled in a considerate manner, "No worries, he was no trouble."

The blond meanwhile had taken advantage of the exchange and had grabbed the placemat he'd been playing with, turned it over and scribbled on the back in black biro, shoving it into Neil's hands before being dragged away by his tired and concerned friend.

Checking what had been written Neil laughed. He'd won again, even if there hadn't been any other players and he hadn't even really been trying. On the back of the mat the blond had scribbled in barely legible handwriting a phone number and the words 'call me, my mysterious stranger'.

"I'd leave that one well alone if I were you," the barman said, noting the destroyed mat as he collected the empty glasses.

"Oh, why's that?"

"That kid who was flirting with you, around this time last year he killed his teacher, some mock battle up on the base."

Looking back at where the drunken pilot and his friend had been Neil shook his head again, spinning the placemat perfectly on the counter, "No he didn't. He didn't have the eyes of a killer, just an idiot."

"How can you know that?"

Neil shrugged, "Met a few in my travels."

"So, you liked him then?"

"Nope," his hand came down on the placemat, stopping it dead and leaving it where it lay, phone number up, as he stood up to walk away, "All that stuff about honour and star signs means jack to me; he was just an amusing distraction."

* * *

The rest of the trip was even less than uneventful, deciding to forgo any further attempted exploration of the site in favour of writing up his report of the meeting. Even the journey back to the station was made in near silence, too early in the morning for even the taxi driver to be particularly talkative.

Neil was early for the train though, and purposefully so, using the time until it arrived to pick up a few useless souvenirs. Tieria would be sure to frown upon it but Neil had every intention of forcing the snow globe on the stoic fellow anyway. If nothing else it would be entertaining to see what he made of such a trinket.

He also made sure to stock up on junk food to share with Feldt, and Allelujah as well since the boy looked like he could do with a few unhealthy, sugary sweets. Perhaps he could also convince them to join in the age-old childish tradition of a midnight feast, the likes of which had driven his own mother spare sometimes. Still, how had they been to know that those cakes had been baked specifically for the school sale?

Such thoughts were enough to keep him amused while he finished his report on the way back to Krung Thep, taking a moment to remind himself of the change in gravity before stepping off this time.

The quick trip to Grave's office, however, killed his mood almost instantly as he dropped off the report and asked where he could find Allelujah, intending to apologise in person for running out on him.

"Allelujah Haptism," Grave had replied, and something about his tone had already filled Neil with a sense of dread, "has been put in solitary confinement after being deemed a serious threat to the crew of this station."


End file.
